Arryn Lannister- Curse of the Second Son
by Mika the Supreme Ninja
Summary: Death was always around the corner, a fact of life all embraced. Few were as pushed as Arryn Lannister, second son of the King, was. Cursed in body due to the sins of his mother, he bears the fear of death. Knowing he had no guarantee at life, Arryn searches for a way to live forever in the stories and mouths of men. To leave a mark lasting long after he dies. To never be forgotten
1. Into the North

**This story was made in honor and spite of the countless stories that make the main oc either the true son of Robert or another random Stark... never make it the child of Cersei and Jamie... or makes them madly in love with Sansa or whomever they are betrothed too or makes them utterly flawless... I wanted to make a person, an actual human that has flaws, issues and their own path instead of replicating the same story a million times... **

**I hope. Let's be honest I suck at finishing stories but at least I can start this and hope. **

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**Robb- 17**

**Jon Snow- 16**

**Joffery- 16**

**Arryn-14**

**Myrcella- 11**

**Tommen- 10 ( It says he is eight and ten in season one but I am going with the older number due to recasting and the issues with chronology)**

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'_What a glorious stench, a far cry from the cabal of shit and piss filling the air of Kingslanding.'_ Arryn took in another breath, almost desperate to case away the memory, the nightmare that was the air of Kingslanding. _'Better not let mother hear me, she would not be pleased... sigh...'_ Urging his horse forward, he made a point to keep position, just behind his brother Joeffrey, exactly two horses lengths away. It was the only by obeying this rule, signifying his status as Joeffry's less important younger brother, that he was allowed to ride his horse instead of hiding in the carriage with his mother and siblings. Their collective grating presence and the rocking of the carriage would do little for what little strength he had some how managed to keep on the month long trip to Winterfell. As it was he was having trouble breathing, the harsh cold wind was murder on his already straining lungs even if it smelled nice.

Of course... it wasn't just the condition of his body that impeded any desire to travel in the carriage. Truthfully the mere notion of riding in that bumpy carriage, trapped for weeks and weeks with his horrid mother and his younger siblings was more unbearable to him then enduring the stench of Kingslanding. Even the uncomfortable pressure of his horse rubbing into his taint was less painful, no matter how bow legged he walked afterwards.

"Ahh, now this is country. Gods I missed this." Robert's achingly strenuous voice echoed out, slamming against Arryn in a reminder of his father's presence. The man, red faced and already reeking ever so slightly of wine and whatever whore he had stuck himself inside of the night before. "Come on you lot, we are not far off. An hour at the most. MOVE!"

With a final bellow, Robert almost charged... almost, only to stop at the sight of the massive unnecessary train of people, horses and carriages following him. Holding him back from the happiness that apparently lay in the gloriousness that apparently was Winterfell. Sighing, the man looked away, disgusted and filled to the brim with a familiar emptiness that Arryn had seen countless times on his father's face... it was there nearly daily, whenever the real world came knocking into Robert's fantasy or fucks. Whenever he had to remember that he was a father, king or a thousand other titles... he saw the same look in Joeffery's eyes whenever the moron was unable to act upon his own impulses but that was neither here nor there.

Winterfell came into full view nearly twenty minutes later, and it was massive. Not as impressive or wide or tall as Kingslanding, the castle that bore the King and the sycophants within. However there was a majesty about the sprawling fortress, it was clearly meant for and built for war and survival. There was not countless decorations and indulgent spirals or towers. It was concise, simple and proud... which apparently was what the Northmen were like, if his father's drunken rants were to be believed.

Arryn knew he'd see the truth soon enough... but that wasn't what he was looking forward too... no, his mind went to another place entirely.

'_Miles of aqueducts siphoning the hotsprings the various baths... and it doesn't reek of shit, so they have to have a way to dispose of their shit without tossing it into the streets. Are there sewers underground? Maybe father's love of this place will allow me the chance to convince him to propose a plan to establish such systems in Kingslanding… "_ It took everything he had not to cackle loudly at the thought, the mere notion was too much for him to handle. Still, years of experience and his mother's glares made it very easy to hold off feeling anything outloud._ 'Snort, like that would work. The fool is rarely sober enough to hear my voice let alone listen to such diverse planning... pity...'_

His father, as it turned out, was wrong. Winterfell took nearly three hours to reach and with the passing of each hour Robert became more and more unbearably obnoxious, whining loudly and sending vicious loathing filled glares towards them all. Thankfully Arryn received no special attention with each glare, nor did Jeoffery… though his Mother's carriage did take more then it's fair share of hate. No one was really surprised.

Winterfell was even more impressive up close, even when filled with still and whispering peasants and it's people seemed to almost take after it. Cloaked in furs with dark hair and fair skin, they looked the definition of wild and untamed, like their land. The Starks stood out in perfect contrast to the rest, for like most Nobles they were the best dressed, most clean and the least excited. Not counting the children of course.

Eddard Stark was a tall man with long brown hair and a beard that was trimmed short unlike his father's wild scruff, in the center of his face was a rather impressive beak not unlike a birds. The years had clearly taken a toll on him, his age showed however it was also clear that he was a warrior, his body was strong and rigid. He was dressed in dark clothes which suited him well.

His wife, Lady Caitlyn Tully Nee Stark was a gorgeous red head with fair complexion and perfect cheek bones. He knew people said his mother was the most beautiful women in all seven kingdoms, but to be honest he was sure Catlyn was more beautiful. Perhapt it was her warmth, or the comfort she had? Either way he knew that he was going to draw her and present her with the image. She would make a wonderful model for his work.

The same thing could be said for her eldest son, Robb if he remembered correctly. A wave a heavy heat washed through Arryn's body at the boy's face. He was strong, firm with coppery colored hair and the most luscious skin. High cheekbones like his mother and a strong jaw like his father, he was a far sight better then even that oaf Loras everyone ranted about. Arryn wanted to bed him, but knew that it would never happen... well it wasn't likely. As he had discovered many people shared his taste for the same sex.

Sansa equaled her brother in beauty, she was a tall girl with flawless red hair and another set of lovely cheekbones. She was immature in her beauty but the marks for goddess like beauty was clear, he just hoped she wouldn't be a cunt like his mother. Her dress was an odd choice though, a light blue that made her almost see through. It was strange for northerner, he knew she would be better in a lighter color or even black, but he had a feeling she would never wear it.

Then there was another girl, Arya his father had said, though she lacked her mother's beauty or even her fathers. It was clear from her figiditing and glares that she was not comfortable, perhaps she had the same wildness his father had drunkenly stated Lyanna had once possessed? He would have to see for himself...

The other two boys were too young to really get any interesting looks at, they just looked young and childish, but he hoped they were kind. Tommen and Myrcella rarely had playmates, having two others to play with would be a rare boon for the lonely twosome.

Naturally, his father was the first to come off of his horse. It required several men and a stepstool but someone the horse did not sway to the ground. With his enormous belly leading him, his father approached Ned Stark who kneeled, along side the rest of the Starks... a stupid thing really, the ground was worn and muddy and cold and would damage their clothing. It seemed a pointless gesture, one Arryn loathed.

After a subtle hand gesture, Lord Stark rose and said something Arryn couldn't hear... in fact he realty couldn't hear much until his father said.

"You've gotten fat."

It took a moment but soon laughter echoed from Lord Stark and his father and like brother's they embraced.

'_So he can show love to a man he has not seen in near a decade but not his own children?' _A familiar exhaustion, one not caused by his illness crept in his heart and he turned gazing at his true father, Jaime Lannister's armored face. '_Well as far he knows we are his children. Sigh...' _

"Take me to your crypt. I want to pay my respects." His father's voice echoed and he knew that trouble would brew.

Turning to his mother, a look of pain in her eyes as she stood next to him ( Clearly Arryn had missed her exiting the , told him he was right. "We've been riding for a month, My love. Surely the dead can wait."

A cold look crossed his father's face, and he just said "Ned!" And stormed off, leaving the awkward silence fill the courtyard.

With some struggle, Arryn managed to get himself off of his horse, just barely masking the grimace as waves of pain and weariness took him hard. '_Damn this illness, damn you Mother for laying with your brother.' _Aches blossomed over his body, his breathe leaving him. It took all he had to not curse at her in person, for it truly was her fault. Like with Joeffery's madness, he knew his ailment was born of his mother breaking the laws of the so called gods and breeding with Jaime. He had caught them together more then once, not that they knew... more over, it was hardly a court secret. Anyone with eyes could see it, they had never been indiscrete. He knew that Mrycella had figured it out as well, they had spoken as much to each other in the rare times they were alone.

"Where's the imp?" A voice, sweet and curious, rang in the air and it gave him a perfect way to hide his status.

Without waiting he turned to his mother and smiled softly. "Mother, I can collect my Uncle. I need to walk off the stiffness from the ride here anyway."

Cersei, who had turned to Jaime with disdain in her eyes, blinked at him slowly like a cow. Then she smiled and nodded. "Are you sure you can find him?"

"Brothels are easy to find, just find a line of men with empty pockets and grins." He really didn't mind brothels, having visited them a few times to draw the whores whenever he needed a naked model. His mother didn't know that. "I will be back shortly, I promise."

Satisfied that she would not have to leave her secret lover's side, his mother smiled in relief. " As you wish, my son."

With that, Arryn handed his horse off to a random servant and hustled towards the center of the town. The sword dangling from his waist, which he was more then capable with, kept others at bay long enough to find the brothel. Really the loud moans that echoed from building made it easy to find, but he did not enter it... no, he hurried to the side and broke down, coughing in agony until black spots broke across his vision. All the strength evaporated from his limbs and nearly collapsed, only the brick walls on either side of him kept him standing.

_"Damn this... Mother, Jaime... you will pay for cursing me with this illness, I promise you.' _As always, whenever his illness struck, his mind went back to the Targeryns and all he had read about them. The cost of their desire for purity, for power. It tore then apart, making many of them ugly and sterile and unintelligent as often as it made them made. Many had a blood disease, a few went blind. His curse was a weak body, constant aches and a feeling as if he was suffocating... something that even a few of the Targeryns had. '_Why couldn't Joff have this condition, it would have killed his evil heart a long time ago...damn you mother.' _

Slowly, from his left pocket, he pulled a rolled bunch of herbs and lit them with one of the matches he always carried on him. He didn't care if his mother would disapprove, but in his research he had learned that this plant eased pain and tremors, which was exactly what he needed. No one knew he smoked it, he mixed lavender in the weed so it smelled softer, more like the perfumes and soap his mother liked.

Within minutes the herbs potency was once again proven, and he was able to relax enough.

_'I hope there is enough for my stay here... and the ride back. I don't know if I can bear a full ride on horse without it... ' _

Sighing, he waited until he breathe returned before marching in to find his Uncle.

_'''_

**A soft knock destroyed Tyrion's concentration, his erection wilting as one of his nephew's marched into the room, staring at him with his cold green eyes. Arryn, raising a light brow, looked at him with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin pale, a clear sign that his illness had taken it's toll on his body. **

**"**Beloved Nephew, do you know the meaning of a closed door in a whore house?"

Ross, his current lover, seemed a little surprised at his usage of the word Nephew. " My Lord." She said, attempting to look respectful, though it was very clear she was more then amused.

"Yes, Uncle, unlike Joeffery, this is not a new experience for me." He said the words with a sneer, reminding Tyrion far too much of his father for comfort, despite the pride the words brought him.

To think a sickly boy, so sickly that he was no longer second in line for the throne due to the fear that he would die while on the throne, would have already lost his virginity! "Something we should celebrate, what do you say Ross?" He smirked at the women, making his intentions to tease or call his nephew's bluff perfectly clear.

The women let out a seductive laugh, parting her auburn hair to show her impressive bust. "It would cost a more, but I can't see why not?"

Both adults expected a blush out of the darling prince, instead the boy closed the door and sighed.

" As fun as that would be, love, I'd rather not get murdered by my mother." His face showed little, though Tyrion was sure there was some amusement in nephews eyes and more then a little lust." So that fun experience will have to be postponed... as for you, dear Uncle, mother demands to see you. I know you'll want to finish your... party but if you don't come we all will have to deal with her wrath. So, if you please, do hurry..." Turning on heel, the boy hurried towards the door, only stopping to toss a silver towards the bed. "If you can get him out here in an hour, I'll see that you get at least three more of those."

Both adults blinked at each other, then lust burned through that fog and they decided to help Ross earn and every one of those coins.

"I do believe the Prince gave us an order and I am nothing if not a servant of the crown."

Moans and grunts were all that followed.

Neither noticed the exhaustion and eye roll that followed Arryn out of the room.

""

**"And this is your room, Prince Arryn. It is one of the warmer rooms, I was told your illness tends to make you susceptible to the cold." Caitlyn gestured to the large room, which contained an already roaring fire and a massive bed that had several extra blankets piled upon it. "I had extra blankets brought in, just in case." **

Said prince smiled at her kindly, clearly touched by her gesture. " Thank you, My Lady. Your kindness is dearly appreciated... these walls have hotspring water running through them, correct?"

"Yes, Bran the Builder built this castle with them in mind. Without them, the people of Winterfell could never live through a hard winter, or manage to grow crops in our greenhouse."

With twinkling green eyes, the boy entered the room, running a hand across the wall. " I can feel it... to be honest, My Lady. I was hoping to read something on how your castle was built. I have some ideas I hope to implement if I get a position on the Small Council."

The Lady of Winterfell smiled in pride, glad to see a child taking their duties seriously. "I will see what I can find. We have an extensive library, open to all. I will show you to it in the morning, if you'd like."

Stopping, the boy turned to her and nodded with a kind smile, allowing her a long look at him. He looked nothing like Robert, taking after Cersei greatly. His hair was a muddled gold that fell in curls around his head, it was far longer then most men she knew, fall towards the middle of his back, tied in braid. He had his mother's bone structure, high cheeks and a thin jaw. He was delicate, more so then his brother had been. He was also paler, with thick dark circles under his dark green eyes. Unlike his older brother, who wore all Gold and red, Arryn wore black clothes, laced with stags and lions across the collar bone.

He was no beauty like his mother or Uncle, but he was far from ugly.

"I would greatly appreciate that, My Lady." The boy nodded low and slow to her, before walking away, towards a case on his desk, one she had no paid attention to before. It was a soft green, with no decoration. He opened it, revealing a lovely violin, one that was not new but clearly well taken care of. "Do you mind if I play this? It has been a while, I dared not irritate my father with it whilst on the road."

A little unsure, Caitlyn nodded. "Not at all, your Grace."

Soft and sweet, a beautiful melody escaped the instrument as the boy gently and expertly played. "Still tuned and in condition, I was worried."

"That was beautiful... would you care to play during tonight's feast? I am sure all would be pleased to hear such wonderful music."

The boy's sudden fear worried her. "No one knows that I play, I taught myself since I was often too sick to practice swordplay or archery... I am not sure they would be happy with me."

"My daughter, Sansa, can play the High Harp. I am sure you could both play, a sign of unity between our houses."

For a moment he was silent, then he gave a slow nod. "If you are sure, I would be honored to perform for you, my Lady."

With a low bow, Caitlyn turned to leave. "I have duties to attend to, so if you do not need anything else, I will take my leave." She stopped at the door as a thought came to her. "May I ask what you wanted to implement? What our books would help you with?"

Joyus, though shy, light blossomed across the clearly tired boy's face. " I was hoping to create a system of sewers one day, should my Father allow it. The condition of Kingslanding is quite... horrid to be honest. When Joeffery and I went to Casterly Rock, I was amazed to see such a system. My Uncle Tyrion was once in charge of it, a position my Grandfather gave him when he turned sixteen... however with the internal plumbing and pipes, I believe we could make it so people can defecate indoors and a series of pipes can expel it out to sea. A lot of illness happens where the waste floods the streets, I hope to serve our people well by removing this problem."

Caitlyn decided there and then that she liked this child very much. " I remember the smell well, it still haunts me from my first visit to Kingslanding. A wonderful goal if ever there was one. What inspired it?"

"I am the second son and I cannot inherit the throne due to my illness, father fears that I will be dead or too weak to serve. It is a fair worry to be honest... so I hoped to help our people in some other way. That sort of project could save thousands of lives, and in that I will have done something to honor my house."

**With a slight shake, Arryn continued to play his violin, cursing himself. '_Damn it, I shouldn't have let my excitement get the better of me. There is no telling how Father or Mother will take my playing the Violin. The last thing I need is either of them looking into my life. I have made a comfortable life for myself in this corner away from all of their prying eyes...' _Tears fells and more frustration built within. '_No, I know well enough that I only said as much because someone took an interest in me, even if it was for the sake of propriety. What a fool I am.'_**

The soothing sound of his violin did little to ease his worry, even if he enjoyed the process. There was something freeing about music, or drawing... art in general. Having control over some aspect of his life, when his ailing body rejected his desires or commands, was a near perfect replacement for that missing power. Of course, since no one paid attention to him, he was free to choose whatever he wanted to learn.

And so he did learn everything, for a time he had wanted to become a Maester though knew his Grandfather, Mother and Father would never allow it. So he satisfied his needs by becoming as educated as he could, as often as he could.

But that only worked because no one paid attention enough to censor him!

_'Sigh, someone would have eventually discovered my interests and skills. I am not the first prince to be a skill musician or poet. Reese Bolton's only son is supposed to have a near divine voice, and Renly is gifted with sowing and seaming. Even father was said to have a skill for crafting jewelry from pieces of horns and furs.' _More at ease, Arryn fell back into his very comfortable bed and focused. '_If I am going to perform tonight, I might as well figure out what I am going to play. My own work, or something well known... all why did I do this myself?'_

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**Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews. **

**To be honest I think this is some of my all time best work. I am proud of both Arryn and this chapter. He feels very real, jaded and accustomed to being independent without an interest in ruling. The pressure of royalty makes some lazy and some evil but I figured it would be nice to see someone take on a more philosophical and servile rule. **

**Arryn has Sickle cell anemia, one of the versions of it. And it is canon that Myrcella knew that Jaime was her father, so I figured an older brother would figure it would if he wasn't a moron like Joff and naïve like Tommen. **

**He is someone that wants to leave a mark before his illness takes him... it defines and pushes him in a way few others are pushed. He is not good at everything... there is a great many things he is a failure at. **

**Also I should mentioned that Arryn is fourteen. **

**I hope you enjoy... **

**Love, your Ninja Overlord, **

**Mika. **


	2. Lessons learned and embraced

The feast was a wonderous success, Sansa watched everyone in amazement and horror. Hundreds of people were crammed into their Great Hall, wine and beer and food stuffed into mouths, whores and serving wenches in countless laps. The King, much to her dismay, was buried face first into a serving women's breasts. The knowledge that she would be performing for such a crowd was almost too much. She shook, knowing and reviewing how she had tightened the strings of her High Harp, ensuring that every note would hit exactally where she wanted it to, where she needed it to.

Her performance would be perfect. It had to be, to impress Prince Jeoffery, to show her father that she was worthy of being the Queen.

She waited, for what felt like hours, sitting next to Jeyne Poole, barely eating and drinking. Her stomach ached with fear, twisted in and upon knots. The smoke filled air only added to the canopy of noise. She prayed to the Mother that they would hear, and like, her performance.

_'I need a distraction...' _Taking several deep breathes, Sansa turned and focused on Joffery, her soon to be Husband. To her, he was beautiful. Tall, blonde with the most amazing green eye. She giggled turning to share the moment with Jenye for a moment... and then she turned to the Queen and her spirits lifted once again. A tall stoic beauty, with thin eyebrows and golden hair wrapped into elegant braided buns on either side, she was everything Sansa wanted to be.

The urge was far too great to ignore, and without a thought she stood and marched over the to queen as gracefully as she could.

The queen smiled at her. "Hello, Little dove... but you are a beauty. How old are you?"

"Thirteen your grace." her face ached from the smile, and she could barely breathe she was far too excited.

The Queen turned her head looking at her, examining her and Sansa strived to be worthy of whatever she was searching for. " Your tall, still growing?"

"I think so, your grace."

"And have you bled yet?"

The world may have gone silent, for all Sansa could hear was the blood in her ears and the shame in her heart. The embarrassment of the inappropriate words, the crassness of them. She turned to her mother, who seemed just as uncomfortable. "No your grace." She shook her head, and tried to hide the shame within.

"And your dress, did you make it?" The pride returned, Sansa nodded with a beautiful smile. "Such a talent, you must make something for me."

"Hopefully something less gold and red, Mother." The three ladies turned to see a limping Prince Arryn, carrying a small green case in one hand. He was no longer wearing his previous black garb, instead garbed in a near velvet suit, with black underneath. The lapels were longer then normal, and within the were delicate lions and stags stitched within with gold silk. It was a beautiful outfit, one Sansa knew she would struggle to make on her own. "I cannot remember the last time you wore anything other then gold or red."

His voice was softer then Joeffery's but deeper and richer carrying notes of husk within, much like a smoker or blacksmith would. It was a warm sound, one she enjoyed though she realized it resembled King Roberts just a little bit more then she would have liked.

The Queen smiled, and Sansa realized that if only slightly the Queen resembled her Mother. She couldn't figure out why. "I look best in my House colors, red and gold. As do you, though you seem determined to wear dark colors at nearly every event." She smiled brightly, then turned to the case in his hands. " What is that?"

"That is a surprise mother, my gift to Lord Stark and my dear brother. One Lady Caitlyn convinced me I should share. I hope you enjoy." He turned to Sansa, leaning in to kiss her cheek softly. "Hello, my soon to be sister. I hear that you and I are sharing this gift."

Blinking in shock, Sansa turned towards her mother who was smiling radiantly. Cersei simply seemed confused. "What gift?"

Her Lady Mother placed a soft hand on Cersei's arm. " You will see my lady, and I hope you are as proud as I am." Standing, her mother gestured to the band, who stopped playing. In an instant the room was filled with confused and annoyed drunken mutters. Then with more power then Sansa realized her mother hand, she spoke. "May I have everyone's attention?" Her mother's voice echoed loudly across the Great Hall, louder even then the countless men and women all but bellowing as they enjoyed themselves. They all turned towards her, and it was clear to anyone with an eye that her mother was bloated with pride. "Prince Arryn and my own Daughter, in honor of My Lord Husband's becoming the Hand of the King, have elected to demonstrate their own skills and perform for us all. My Daughter on the High Harp and my Prince Arryn on the Violin."

Hushed whispered did little to abate the nervousness of Sansa as she marched over to where the band had played, where her Harp now sit, perfectly tuned and beautiful. She sat on the stool next to it, closing her eyes as terror struck her.

Then she heard Arryn's voice, sweet and soft and in it she found strength. " What song as you playing? I follow your lead, sweet sister."

She could not help the smile at those words confirmed her, reminding of the dream that lay in hands reach of her. She would be queen... she would Marry the First born Prince.

With a stronger voice then she realized she had, her voice carried across the Great hall where many people looked at her, including a seemingly interested Joeffery and even the King. "In honor of my Father and the King, I will be playing the Ode to Winter, our First Kneel. A song born of the unity between the Once Great Northern Kingdom and the Six kingdoms."

Unable to speak any further, she turned to her Harp and took one last breathe before her hands found their place.

**Cersei frowned, even as gorgeous music lilted their ways into the air. "Your daughter has a gift, a seamstress and a musician. What can she not do?" Her son, sweet and quiet Arryn had yet to begin playing. Instead she stared at Sansa, placing his violin against his throat, waiting for some cue to begin. "How did you know of his talent?" She tried to hide her doubt, doubt that he could really play the violin with any skill, doubt that the boy she barely knew had secrets that she never knew of.**

Before Caitlyn ever began to speak, jealousy erupted from Cersei's heart and it took all she had to not to strike at the women who had someone how knew more about her enigmatic son then she currently did. A reminder of failure, of fear that came with the knowledge that her son would perish before she could really get to know him.

"He told me when I lead him to his room, he wanted to ensure that his instrument was in perfect shape. It was beautiful and it gave me a wonderful idea, one your son agreed to. "

Insolence barked bitterly against her throat, and Cersei wished more then anything to give into the feeling, to scold the wench before her.

Then her son began to play and all thought evaporated from her heart and mind. "Beautiful..." The words escaped her as deep rhythmic sounds echoed across the Great Dinning Hall, a different tone then the one the Stark girl was playing though it matched it perfectly in tone shifting the dramatic but simple song into something akin to prayer. As if the gods themselves were listening, deciding weather or not to bond the North and South.

When her song began to sing, a powerful and deep wailing sound, it only added to the music.

The prayer became mournful, a cry to those who had fallen in the wars preceeding and a promise to the Gods and those who were swearing oaths of fealty. The sounds of war and peace, the simple harp and the complex violin.

Cersei's heart hurt as the music ended, tears in her eyes as the crowd swelled with loud applause. Even her drunken bastard of a husband seemed moved by the performance, clapping loudly even with his arms wrapped around his current conquest though it may have been the wine. However her eyes were met Jaime's, her son's true father, who looked ready to cry as pride swelled him. She felt his pain, knowing how much he yearned to love and cherish their children with all he had. That look that he should be allowed to share with the world, reminding just who was their father.

A look her father never gave her or Jaime.

She had to look back at her son, smiling as he bowed along side Sansa, hand in hand. Both happy and red faced, both radiant in their beauty and youth.

She hated them for it, and yet she cherished every second of it.

Slowly, both children made their way back to the High table, stopping every few minutes to accept praise from one person or another. Even the normally stoic Septa's were eager to praise them both, which seemed to make her son especially happy though she could not figure out why. It took longer then she cared for, for the children to reach her and when they did her son spoke.

"Wasn't she amazing? I have never heard such excellent Harp playing."

Sansa, the little dove, turned bright red. "You honor me your Grace but you played the violin masterfully and sang. I have never heard that song before, did you make it?"

Her song actually blushed, his normal stoicism and exhaustion evaporating to show a taste of the innocence he clearly hid from the world. "Yes, I couldn't play much on the road here, so I started to write songs. I remember stories of how the North played such a heavy role in the War against the Mad King, it was an easy thing to create."

Pride and jealousy burned through Cersei. "Who taught you to play, my son?"

The innocence evaporated, her heart ached at the genuine fear in his eyes. "I taught myself, Mother... two years ago when the fever hit me. Maester Pycelle said I would die, so everyone stayed away from me. I... I missed the music lessons, I used to listen when Myrcella was learning to play. So, I had a servant get me a violin and books on the subject. It took a lot of time, but whenever I was conscious I taught myself how to play. I find it soothing. The singing came when I was helping Myrcella learn, as a part of her lessons."

When he actually took a step back from her, almost shaking in fear, it became too much for Cersei and she reached forward, grabbing his hand. "You were incredible, you honored your House well." Pulling just a little, she kissed her son's temple softly.

"She's right, both of you did well." Caitlyn's soft, sweet voice interrupted the moment between Cersei and her son.

However, what hurt the most was the radiant smile that came from her at her words, as if they filled him with more joy then he could contain. "Thank you, my Lady... but if it pleases you both, I would depart for bed. I have used up too much of my energy." Reaching forward, her son kissed her cheek softly, doing the same for Lady Stark. Then, to her surprise, he embraced Sansa fully and kissed her cheek. "We must play together again. Goodnight, Sister."

**Shaking and terrified, Arryn all but sprinted from the Great Hall. People were looking at him, many praised him, but none held him up too long. For this he was grateful, if he believed in the Gods he would have thanked the Mother for this mercy. Eyes were on him, more eyes then he had ever seen. It was too much, especially with the weight of his Mother and Joff looking at him. He feared that his brother, having attention taken from him, would not be able to handle the jealousy. **

'_I need to hide my stuff... ' _

The glorious cold of Winterfell soothed his heated panic, and for a moment he decided to leaned against a wall, taking it in under the moonlight. It's radiance was muddled by the constantly cloud covered skies of the North, and yet it brought him a measure of peace.

_"_You did well, your Grace."

The voice was deeper then he expected, softer with an incredibly warm accent that sent a rush down his spine. He knew, without looking, that it was Robb Stark. Turning towards the young man only confirmed it.

Robb's face was showing just a shade of a beard, something Arryn appreciated. He always enjoyed facial hair, he knew that he was likely to get a decent beard growing himself if Tywin's Beard was any sign. On others however, like Robb, it was an unfortunately effective allure that he struggled to resist. Still, he knew he had to behave himself even if the North held no reservations around same sex couplings. Partially due to the presence of so many Southerners and their bias.

Partially because he was all but carrying Arya Stark over his shoulder.

The little girl smiled mischievously at him, clearly the picture of the cat that ate the canary.

"Thank you, I appreciate that." Unable to hide his own smirk, he asked the girl. " And just what did you do?"

Her laughter was warm and sweet, and he just knew Sansa was involved. "I hit Sansa with a spoonful of meat pie." Smug as only a vindictive child could be, She ignored Robb's sigh.

"I am sorry, Your Grace. She-"

"It's fine. I enjoy the joke. Pity I couldn't have seen it." He chuckled, reaching out to shake Arya's hand. " Pity you didn't hit my brother. He's an uptight little prick. Or even better, my father. I imagine he's too drunk to have even noticed it."

Both the Stark's laughed, and in that moment Arryn felt an all too familiar pain burn it's way into his heart. Not from illness or stress but from mourning. He wished, more then most things, that he could have forged such bonds with his family. Sure he enjoyed his Uncle Tyrion, respected his blood father and cared for his younger siblings ( even if he rarely was allowed around them) but other then that he had no real connections.

It was a sad thing...

_'Which is why I was so easily cajoled into performing by Lady Stark. I need to work on this, less Mother learns to use me like this... or worse, Varys or Baelish. If I am to implement my plans I will need to be iron in my convictions and not allow myself to be swayed.'_ Sighing just a little, he returned his full attention to the Starks.

"Not to be rude, but my illness renders me quite tired most days. I wish you both a good night and I hope neither of you wake up squirting from one end or the other."

Both Starks gave a startled snort as he left them, their laughter haunting his every aching step...he wished he truly had family like this... or friends close enough to call family like his father and Lord Stark.

Then he stopped, as an idea slammed into him with the force of a field of wildfire.

_'They like me... they really do... and so did Lady Caitlyn. How foolish I am, this is how you allies. If I want my goals to come into fruition then I need friends, I cannot believe I never realized this before. How I believe any of my dreams would matter or become real without allies is beyond me. When I go home I must implement such practices... perhaps staring with Uncle Renly, he's my uncle so no one would question my talking to him. Truly this is a lesson one I will not ignore. Father is friends with Lord Stark and it is only through that bond that he has gained a loyal Hand now that Jon Arryn has died... but they will not live forever and really he is his only friend. Joff is incapable of making friends for any real length of time. When he becomes king, I will have to fight against him to get anything done... I really have been a fool... I just have to be clever... Sansa clearly liked me, and we seem to share interests... I guess I know where to start. She is going to be my Law Sister anyway, really she is my best place to start.' _

Those words added a strength to his step, chasing away the fear he felt from previous eyes on him. A swarm of ideas swam in his head as he began his plot to gain the allies he sorely lacked.

_'I really have to thank Lady Stark one day. If she hadn't accidently forced me out of shell, I would have never even considered doing this...I already ripped off my clothes and shown the world some of my true colors, might as well enjoy it.'_

* * *

"My Dear sweet sister, how are you this fine morning?" Arryn enjoyed the look of shock on the faces of the girls practing their needlework. The Septa actually gasped, hand over her heart. A single thread of hair fell from her frock, not that she noticed. Sansa and Myrcella both smiled at him, beautiful and sweet, where as Arya looked at him with boredom and a desire for freedom. He understood that look all too well.

"Your Grace." The Septa managed to squeak out, which he returned with a nod.

Practically tossing her work to the die, Myrcella rushed over to him, hugging him close around his waist. He enjoyed her warmth, burying a kiss into her head. Plot to gain allies or not, he always enjoyed seeing her beautiful face.

"Your here! I thought you would be too sick to see me today." She was almost crying and it broke his heat, he wished that he could see her more often.

Kneeling, he held her beautiful face and brushed away the tears. "I have been getting stronger and stronger, and I managed to squeeze in a few extra hours of sleep. I feel fantastic really." She looked at him, her green eyes understanding what he meant. She knew of his herbal secrets, having seen him smoking them more then once. "I should be able to play and sit with you more often. Now, what are we working on?"

With strength far greater then her size should have allowed, she led him to her seat and he plopped down next to her. Her hands pulled the design off of the floor, where she pointed out her design. " I am having trouble with this curve. The Stark Direwolf is harder then our Family crest."

Nodding, he pulled the design from her hand, running his finger across the curve she was talking about. "Hmm... how about I show you how to do it? You can copy me as best you can?" As his sister nodded, he pulled out a fresh bit of fabric and a set of needle and thread. "You want to keep the needle close to your hand, and take your time, small motions are best."

"You like needlework?" Arya's dry, bored look drew his attention from his work. She did not look impressed, actually she almost looked betrayed. " But your a boy?"

"Arya, that is not proper behavior. We do not speak to a prince like that." The septa's obnoxious voice, filled with righteous fury at the break in propriety, lashed out at the girl who seemed mostly unfazed.

_'Perfect, a clear opportunity to gain her alliance... she may not matter much now but in the future she will command a house as a Lady, with ties to the Great Starks to boot.' _With a shrug, he gestured to his sister. "I am sick often, and when I am not I am too weak to do much. Reading is my usual habit, but I do enjoy playing with my sister and brother. She practices on her own often so I decided to work with her. Besides, it is a useful skill to have. I have designed most of my own clothes, and even a few of my sisters."

"Singing, Violin and Sewing. Are you sure you aren't a girl?"

Sansa actually gasped, looking horrified. "Arya, you can't talk to the prince like that!"

"I don't really care what people think about things being for girls or boys. I have met a few female warriors that could beat my Uncle into the ground, most of them are from Dorne where the practice is rather common. I like art. Poetry, singing, violin or the High Harp, drawing, painting...but I also enjoy sword play and archery and horseback riding. I am actually quite good at both, no where near my Uncle I know but enough to honor my house or defend myself if the moment calls for it. Now, enough about me. It seems every conversation I have had over the last day has been about me. I am not that interesting, I promise. So, tell me, Arya, what do you want to do?"

He really was annoyed, it felt like everyone was trying to peel away his layers and poke at what they say. He knew why they were doing it, intrigue and the fact that the North lacked the Biases of the South that resulted in everyone ignoring him and his younger siblings. He shouldn't be so rude really... especially if he wanted allies. It was just so against his nature.

The girl actually recoiled, clearly not used to such a question. "Um, well, I want to-" Loud clangs and bellows, the sound of men being stupid. "Go on a hunt for one thing."

"I understand the feeling.' He smirked just a little, trying to hide the satisfaction at having found a perfect foothold to gain her liking. " Father has never allowed me on a hunt despite being a far cry better then Joeffery with a bow. Maybe I can talk to your Lord Father about having your trained in the basics of combat? He seems a kind man, and really if I remember correctly your Aunt Lyanna was also at least partially trained in combat. I plan on talking to him about a few things anyway."

This time, it was Arya that launched herself at him, and he enjoyed every second of it... even if he was tired of making a scene.

"Now, shall we continue with the lesson I so rudely interrupted? Arya, I know your not fond of needlework, but perhaps you can design your own crest? What you would want if you became a Knight or had your own house. The Baratheon House is actually the legacy of a bastard branch of the Targaryans you know."

Eyes wide and lit with passion, Arya nodded excitedly. "I knew that, Orys Baratheon was the Bastard Brother of Aegon the Conqueror!" A slight frown built over her tiny face. "But he didn't make a House Sigil, he took it from House Durrandon after he defeated Argilac the Arrogant."

"I know, but other families made their own House. Blackfyre did this, and so did a few others. We can make your Sigil, even if you would never use it. It would be an interesting exercise." Turning to his sister, he poked her nose. "This one is very creative, and she can help. Maybe Sansa can help us? I know Joff uses a combined sigil of both of our Houses. Maybe you can sew him one, one that I can draw for you? I am sure he would find such a gift lovely. It might endear him to you, Sansa."

The girl flushed a read that put her perfect hair to shame, but nodded eagerly. " I would love that."

"Wonderful, thankfully I brought my Pencils and notebook with me." Smiling, he pulled out the pad of paper from the bag he carried round his shoulder. "Lady Septa, would you like to help? I commandeered your lesson after all, rather rude of me I know. I do apologize for that."

His winning smile seemed to move the Septa, who smiled at him indulgently. "Not a problem, you even seemed to motivate Arya to sew. I never thought I'd see the day. I am happy to help, Your Grace... so long as you do know that your Sigil cannot be public knowledge nor can you call it a Sigil at all. Least others see you, or these girls as traitors."

Her words, their accuracy, hit him like cold water. Sansa actually gasped and he could all but sense Arya trying to say something smart. Thankfully he recovered quickly.

"A fair statement, but do not worry. I have no intentions of leaving my family and neither do these girls. It is simply an exercise in understanding the past, honoring the past of the Baratheon Household... and in fact all Households who have a Sigil. New Houses do arise, like House Baelish, which has the sign of the Mockingbird."

He shared a smile with the Septa, hiding the genuine fear building within him. He truly hadn't thought of that... he had been so focused on gaining the alliance of the girl, knowing no one would focus on truly making them their allies since they were more focused on their brothers, that he forgot to think about the consequences. He would have to do and be better then this...

If he wanted to serve his dream... he wanted to make his dream a reality to ensure that he was remembered truly and forever, he had to be careful...

He life and functional immortality depended on it.

* * *

**Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews. **

**I am really enjoying writing this. Arryn is fun and powerful in his own way, I enjoy his innocence getting in the way and him realizing that he has to make friends... that his reclusive personality is harmful only after meeting the open and loving Starks... a lesson that I think is helpful since he has little understanding of politics on a practical level... **

**This was going in a different direction earlier but was saved by the realization that the story was too focused on people asking about his skills. I needed a goal for him and a way for it to work, and so his desire to make allies ( he does understand that much of politics) was born. **

**I figured that it would be the opposite of Sansa, who learned to be quiet and listen from the cold politics of the South... that he would learn to be open and not always hide himself from the loving and wild North!**

**Love, your Ninja Overlord, **

**Mika. **


	3. Sins of the Mother, Devotion of Blood

**Myrcella and Tommen are so rarely used in Cannon, we rarely get to see manipulation of Joff in a way that makes sense and compassion is a powerful tool I think. I wanted to include these things.. **

* * *

"How easily everything changes." Frowning at the grey skies of Winterfell, Arryn leaned against the walls of the castle, pulling a long drag off of his herbal medicine. "We really destroy everything we touch, don't we?" He asked the air, not really expecting an answer. He didn't need one, he knew the answer.

A mournful air filled Winterfell, stripping it of the festiveness that it once held. The cold dreary air sapped of strength of character, potency and purpose, leaving all in a stagnant state of misery. From the Mighty Lord Stark to the lowest servant, all were affected by Bran's Fall. Arryn could still remember Caitlyn's Stark's screams when she saw her son... it didn't matter that it been a month since the boy fell, the sound still etched itself into his soul...

_"What's the sound?" Sansa, sweet girl, pipped up confused and annoyed, looking at the doorway with frustration. She clenched her needle work hatefully. _

_Arryn stood, lifting Myrcella from his lap and approaching the door. He regretted opening the damn thing the moment he did as the most agonizing screams bellowed in his ear, screams all too familar to the girls behind him. _

_"Mother?" Arya ripped past him, shooting into the outside, her little face filled with worry and courage. Arryn was right behind her, hand close to his sword just in case. _

_Then he, they saw it..._

_A cart rolling into the courtyard, a massive unfamilar man pulling it close behind. Caitlyn Stark was being held by her eldest son Robb, both were in tears but it was Caitlyn who was screaming in utter agony. A look of pure devistation etched into her beautiful face, and Arryn's heart broke for her before he even understood why. _

_Grabbing Arya, he placed her behind him and settled her curiosity with a very stern glare that even with her wild heart she seemed to accept. Slowly, he approached the Cart and looked within. He regretted it instantly, the sight was painful in a way so few things managed to be. There, snuffed out of light, was Brandon Stark. His already pale complexion washed of any trace of life. Only the blood leaking from his nose and mouth gave any trace of life. Both legs were splayed, twisted in odd shapes. He looked the part of a corpse... _

_It was only the subtle, ragged motion of his chest just barely holding onto life that he knew the boy had a chance, bare though it was. _

_Without hesitating, he pulled Arya into a hug, feeling her sob into his chest miserably. Her tiny body heaved against him as she mourned whatever in the name of all seven hells had happened to her brother. _

_"What happened?"  
_

_The Second born prince could not help but cringe at Sansa's voice, and knew he would have to tell her. _

"What a waste." Sighing, Arryn pulled a drag off of his herbs. Their numbing strength eased less then normal, the stress and grief he felt for the poor Starks aggravated his condition. "Poor kid... poor Starks." Looking at the tall tower, the image of Bran's fall burned into his head once more, even though he hadn't seen it. Taking another puff, he tried to enjoy the rare moment of peace he had found over the course of the last few days...

"I'm telling Mother! AH!"

It was not meant to be apparently, as Joff's voice echoed loudly, his natural irritating and childish cadence a clear reminder of his family's sins. Almost running, Arryna hurried towards his brother knowing full well that Tyrion was about to or had already done something stupid. He was the only one to get that sort of rise out of Joff, everyone else was either too scared of Joff or ignored the bratty prince.

He was right, naturally, with his Brother holding his cheek next to the Hound and a very annoyed looking Tyrion.

"Go! Tell her. But first you will go to Lord and Lady Stark and you will fall on your knees in front of them and tell them how very sorry you are." Tyrion's words, though wise, annoyed Arryn.

_'Does he not realize how little my brother cares for others? How cruel he is? He's more likely to strangle the boy in his sleep then wish him well.'_ Irritated, he quickly reached them before Tyrion could say another word, glaring at the ignorant imp. His Uncle actually looked surprised, and Joff actually recoiled as if afraid at least for a moment before a easy calm settled him. Joff actually seemed to like Arryn, at least slightly. "Did you really just hit the Crown prince? In front of others, are you mad? Mother could easily have your head, you know she would do it too." Kissing a little ass, reminding his brother of his power always made the boy pliable, not that most people really seemed to notice.

Tyrion actually had the audacity to roll his eyes. "Yes, I did. The boy needed a little discipline."

"I know he does but it isn't your place and this isn't where it should be. Much as I hate to admit it, dear Uncle, reputation does matter. You know that." Sighing, he turned to his brother and smiled, disarming the ignorant shit. Joff actually smiled, well smirked, back. "Joff, I know you don't like it but you are expected to make friends and allies. Fake it, pretend you care. Tell Lady Stark that you have never had to act during tragedy and that you were not sure how to talk to her without offending her or making it worse. Tell her that you are at her Service and that your prayers are with them." Ignorant rage blossomed on Joff's face, but years of talking around his brother made it easy to predict his moodswings. "Father would appreciate it and be proud. He loved the Stark family and if you show that you care it would make him more likely to be around you."

The bluff and bribery was too much, Joff's eyes widened with excitement. "Do you think he would?"

It was an easy, sad fact that Arryn had learned from an early age. Joff adored and idolized their father, to the point of obsession really. All he had ever wanted was to be close to their father, to emulate him. It left an easy route to manipulate his brother, and had saved Arryn many an abuse as a child.

"Of course, in fact we could tell him so he knows. If you show you share an interest, especially in the Starks, he is bound to care. Right?" Simple enough for his simple brother to understand, Joff hurried away with a smile on his face. Left alone with Tyrion and the Hound, Arryn turned to his Uncle who had a bemused look on his face. "Hit him again, and I will kill you. He is violent enough on his own, the last thing we need is for him to have more rage to take out on others. All hitting is doing is giving him an excuse to exercise that rage. Do you understand?" Desperate and annoyed, he tried and almost begged for his Uncle to understand just who would suffer for his hitting Joff. It wasn't going to be Tyrion, a powerful adult lord. It would be tiny Tommen, shy and weak and loving... or strong, but delicate Myrcella, still unable to keep herself safe.

"You always could get him to listen." Smirking, his Uncle turned away and started walking towards the Great Hall. " Time for breakfast."

The Hound snorted. " He isn't very afraid of you, young lord. I don't think he is going to listen."

"He should be... if he touches my brother again, feel free to break something." Rushing after his Uncle, a shaking Arryn reached down and gripped the Dwarf's shoulder. "What in the Seven Hells makes you think I am jesting? Do you know who truly suffers whenever you piss him off? Myrcella and Tommen, they always do." "

The older man just shrugged him off. "Joffery would never hurt your siblings. He is a little shit but he won't hurt them. Even Cersei would stop that and you know how she indulges that repulsive brat."

"He's skinned Tommen's pets twice, attacked Robin Arryn with a stick, gutted a Kitchen cat to play with her unborn kittens... He is a Monster and if your foolish enough to ignore that then so be it but I will not allow your ignorance to endanger Myrcella or Tommen... if he touches them or even Sansa or Arya I will gut you. Do not ignore me Tyrion." It was a strange thing, threatening his Uncle... he rarely spoke to the other man despite liking him. Illness and his Uncle's carnal pursuits made it hard to truly connect... but having realized that he needed to make allies and a statement made it clear that everyone was a potential obstacle or ally. Even his irritating Uncle or monsterous brother. Both had influence and power, but Joff's was far greater even if he was far from likeable. So as much as it disgusted him, he had to play nice with the shit and that meant defending him from Tyrion, even if he agreed with the punishment.

Stopping for a moment, His uncle turned to him and gave him a long hard look. "It seems as If I am learning more about you in the last month then I ever have before. You've fucked whores, play the violin and sing remarkably well and have little problem manipulating your brother. What other secrets are you hiding from us all?"

It wasn't hard to glare at the little shit. "More then I care to tell you." Brushing past the ignorant Dwarf, Arryn recentered himself and smiled kindly at the servants. "Bacon please, and some bread... oh and the salty soup I had the other day. Some tea as well, if you please." Totally ignoring his Uncle's request from the same servant, the Prince approached the table filled with his Mother, Uncle and younger siblings. He smiled at his sister, who was sitting on the other the side of the table. "Hello you."

Her smile lifted his spirits as it always did. "How are you feeling?"

"Been better, you?" Sitting on the other side of Tommen, who's temple he kissed softly.

A shy look crossed Myrcella's face. "I finished my sigil...and I made a gift for Lady Stark. I hope she likes it."

"What gift?" Snarky and sniffy, his mother interrupted their conversation looking offended and disgusted.

Both siblings barely refrained from rolling their eyes, but his sister managed to turn to their mother. "I stitched a design into a blanket for Lady Stark combing the Stark and Tully Sigil. She has been sleeping in Bran's room and I thought having something comforting would help her."

Proud of her compassion, it was an easy thing to hold his sister's hand. " I cannot wait to see it."

"Neither can I." Naturally Tyrion chose that moment to interrupt, scooting next to Tommen and stealing something from the table. " Beloved siblings."

"Bran is going to live." Myrcella's sweet voice drew all of their eyes, she focused on Arryn solely. "I heard the Maester say he was going to live. Do you want to visit him with me?"

Leaning over, he kissed her sweet face as many times as he could, making her giggle loudly. He didn't care that his mother or Uncle could see him, he had stopped hiding just how much he loved that little brat. "Of course. Why do you think I ordered so much food? I want to make sure Lady Caitlyn has eaten something. I am almost positive she has lost a full stone in the month we've been here."

"Thankyou/What do you mean?" Cersei's cold, rushed words were a stark contrast against Myrcella's musical voice and the eyes turned to her.

Thankfully Uncle Tyrion took that moment to speak. "The Maester says the boy may live."

"I am not surprised, even in the Capital Maester Luwin's skill is almost a thing of legends. I am almost sure he is better then that fool Pycelle." A mug of tea was set next to him by a lovely male servant, one he had already fucked a few times in the stables. They shared a look, one that made the poor boy blush before returning his attention towards his family. "I for one am quite happy he is alive, even if he will never walk again. Speaking for the grotesques, life is far easier then people realize if one has the right attitude and from what I gather the boy was quite spirited. Myrcella and I have been combing the library for anything we can get our hands on to make his life easier. We found a few books on Dothraki saddles and even a climbing apparatus that may have been used in the construction of Winterfell. The boy live to climb, hence his fall. This might make it easier for him to at least see the world from up high."

His mother shared a look with Jaime that set a thousand bells off in Arryn's head, dread filled his heart. "It's no mercy letting a child linger in such pain."

"Only the Gods know for certain, all the rest of can do is pray."

Unable to stop himself, he snorted. "Pray all you want, I will stick to being useful and gathering whatever I can to help the Starks. Now, I can smell my bread, so if you please excuse me. Myrcella and I have a meeting with Lady Stark... and so does my handsome Tommen." Smiling at Tommen, he drank in the boy's happy smile. He tried to include Tommen, knowing that the boy felt isolated far too often. Kissing his brother and Uncles softly, he turned away, his little brother and sister at his side. They gathered the food from the servant the moment she left the Kitchen, surprising her. "We will take this to Lady Stark. If you can, please bring some honey and tea up to young Brandon's room, we may be there for some time. Oh and maybe some cheese... I should have asked earlier I am sorry."

The Servant flushed and nodded, clearly taken aback by his kindness.

"Arryn, can we grab my gift before we go?" Myrcella's question lead them out of the Great Hall.

**Cersei watched her second eldest child walk away, taking her daughter with him. Their familiarity was disarmingly similar to how she and Jaime had once been, when they were little before their father had broken their ability to display any love publicly. Her heart skipped a beat when Myrcella looked up at him, nothing but pure devotion and love her in Green eyes. It was a mirror of her own past... **

"He is good to those three, more then any of us deserve... funny that we never saw it before. Makes you wonder what else that boy is hiding." Tyrion's smirk sent a wave of nausea in Cersei's heart, she did not hid her glare as she focused on him entirely.

"He's a good brother, that's more then I can say about you." Reeling in her spite, barely, she turned the conversation to something safer for her to speak about. "So... the boy, Brandon. How do we know he will live?"

"This Luwin says that boy has started breathing at a normal rate and that he is finally gaining a little bit of his weight back. He is twitching every so often, only in his upper extremities but still. Even his eyes are moving every so often. He should awaken soon, more then likely after we leave, or so Luwin believes."

Fear warred with relief, the horror of the boy's injury had weighed heavy on her despite the cost of his potential revelation of what he had seen. "He will live his life without purpose, a grotesque forced to leech off of the world while giving so little back. A life I would never accept for myself, or any of my children."

Tyrion actually had the audacity to raise a glass towards her. " Speaking for the grotesques, I disagree. Death is so final, while life is full of possibilities. Besides I hope the boy does wake. I am interested in what he might have to say."

Her heart dropped, absently her hands moved towards the knife on her left, eager and willing to slaughter Tyrion if he proved disloyal. Thankfully Jaime seemed just as concerned, turning to Tyrion with a cold look. "Dear Brother, sometimes I wonder just who's side your on."

"My dear brother, you wound me. You know how much I love my family."

"A strange mercy, coming from you." Standing, she marched away, giving a telling look to Jaime. " Behave yourselves."

* * *

**The soft creak of the Door alerted Caitlyn to visitors, naturally she tried to look up expecting her husband or one of her daughters. When the Royal children, sans Joeffrey, walked in with a smile, she could not help but flush. Absently she stood, brushing off her night dress even as she placed her craft down. " Your graces, I would have dressed." **

With kind eyes so unlike Tywin Lannisters, the three children smile sadly at her. The eldest, young Arryn shook his head. " This is your home, we are but guests here. In this room we are not the Princes and Princess, we are friends mourning your son's injury and hoping to get you to eat." He raised his arms, making her realize that he had brought food. Food that smelled delicious,, she recognized that bread and the scent of Tea and Honey.

Her stomach bellowed, leaving her flush and embarrassed by the children just laughed. Both the young ones hurried to sit on the bed, Myrcella grasping Bran's hand softly. " I made you a blanket. Arryn has it, Lady Stark."

Turning to the boy, who had placed the tray down in front of her, she watched as he took off a large back that was lain across his back. From within he pulled out a large fleece blanket, one decorated with Fish and Wolves. A perfect, beautiful union of House Tully and Stark. She was moved, feeling her eyes prickling at the sight. Without hesitation she grabbed it, embracing it's softness before tossing it around her body, enjoying that for the first time in a month she felt just a little bit warm.

"I cannot thank you enough Myrcella… these designs are beautiful, you did them yourself?"

The girl proved that she would easily surpass her mother's beauty, giving a smile that lit up the room. "Yes, Lady Stark. Your from the South, and everyone says you have the warmest room. Hotspring water through the wall! I thought you would like to be warm while you watch over Bran! Arryn thought you weren't eating enough, and he knew you wouldn't leave the room, so he brought your breakfast. I wanted to keep Bran company since we are leaving today."

The tears began to flow faster then Caitlyn could stop them, she sobbed into her hands, even as she felt Arryn's arm around her. "I am so sorry, I just..."

"It is alright, my Lady. We are at your service, all three of us. Not just because it is expected, but because we care. You and your family has shown us nothing but love and kindness, it was an easy thing to give back. Now, you are doing no one good by starving yourself. Eat." Her hands were pulled down, and a piece of bread was placed within. She would have protested but the boy's stern look stemmed any desire...

_'He is so tired... and yet he still came up here. We might have hope for the future yet. If only Sansa married him instead of Jofferey.' _Absently she bit into the bread, and felt a feeling of peace wash over her. People so rarely came up to look over Bran, even her husband seemed to avoid the place, avoid looking at their beautiful son in current state. She understood his feelings well...

"My Lady, I want to show you something, something my sister and I drew up." The sound of rustling papers drew her from her morbid thoughts, she turned to the boy who had a paper in his hands. Within she could see countless drawings, not all of which were appropriate. Many were of naked men and women but before she could question them, her eyes landed on the very last entry.

"A saddle... for Bran?"

Kind green eyes stared at her. "He will wake up and he will have every advantage. He might not be able to walk but he will be able to ride, shoot a bow. He will not be weak or a leech on others, he will be a Lord and we will make sure that he can make any dream come true." He gestured the paper towards her, pointing with his long fingers. "This is will allow him to ride, but the horse will have to be young and learn to obey his voices and maybe some hand motions."

Cait actually choke on her words that came to her, a reminder of her son's broken dreams." He wanted to be a Knight, serve on the Kingsguard."

"Then he will have to find a new dream, painful though that will be. I know, I wanted to be one myself. I idolized my Uncle Jaime... then I wanted to be a Maester. Hehe life is funny like that... now, my lady I have another illustration... one you may not like but one I think he will love."

Trepidation hit her as he turned the page. Rage almost made her hit the Prince. "A climbing apparatus? Climbing... it was climbing that got him like this!" Her voice raised, painful and scratchy and not like her true self.

She hated the way it sounded.

The boy, and the other Royal children gave her pitying looks. It took her a long moment to calm herself enough to bow her head. "

"I am sorry, my Prince... I …"

"I understand..." The boy's words were soft, she barely heard them, but there was something about them that made it impossible to not look at him. A painful look burned in his eyes. "When I was young I had a million dreams, when I finally understood my illness I... I cried, not for the death that could come or even the pain but the dreams lost. I won't let that happen to your son, if I can help it... with this he can at least see the world from a birds eye, while being safe. It might be all he has that gives him a taste of the freedom he has so deeply lost."

"Forgive me... your far too kind... " She turned away, taking a long sip of her tea, unable to take the shame. "I just... I can't believe he fell. I always told him that he would but he was so sure footed. I used to joke to myself that his father must be part mountain goat or squirrel. I almost wish it was something else, that he was thrown, that lightning struck near him, that bird flew into him... anything other then being right."

**Dread and fear burned in his heart, he shook and the world actually spun around him. Arryn felt vomit make it's way to his throat, barely shutting the sensation down as he took in the women's agonizing words. Words that, unbeknownst to her, condemned his Mother and Father... _'Mother's look earlier, her reaction to the boy's fall... surefooted, never having fallen before... Mother, please tell me that you are not dumb enough to have been with Jaime her, with thousands who are not loyal to you, who do not fear you...' _**

Standing, he placed a kiss on the Lady of Winterfell, repeating the same thing with his siblings and Bran. "I apologize, but I need to speak to my mother about something. I want to see if I can get the Royal Tanner, the one who made our saddles, to go over my work. You make a valiant point, Lady Stark. We do not want a repeat of this. We will not let overconfidence damn another." Turning to his confused brother and horrified sister ( He knew she had figured out what he had, she was the smartest person he knew even if no one else seemed to acknowledge it.) he smile at the brats. "Keep the both company, can you do that for me?" They nodded, serious and sweet. "Make sure she eats all of her food. Sister, do be a dear and comb her hair for her will you. Tommen, tell Lady Stark about your pets. I know you are a jealous of the Direwolves and want to know all about them. I think she would love to hear about it."

The Lady Stark did not question his words, even if her face made it clear how confused she was. A Mother was a Mother and she embraced the role even if it was not her children. His siblings obeyed without question, they always did with him.

The sound of his brother's story lead him out of the hall, even as he all but ran to the Tower from which Bran fell.

_'Please, if there are any real gods... let me be wrong... ' _

* * *

**Cersei opened her door the moment the knock rang against it, her loins all but frothing at the thought of her beloved Jaime only to be rudely knocked aside by a very, very angry looking Arryn. "Arryn, what are you-ARHHH!"** **Agony exploded against her stomach, black spots dancing across her vision as the breath left her. Cold fingers wrapped around her throat and with greater strength then she believed possible for her sickly son, he pinned her against the wall on the other side of the room. **

"Do not speak, only nod your head. Do you understand me?" For a moment she could not respond, too afraid and shocked at the violence her son had inflicted on her. Her body ached as he shook her. "Do you understand me?" Somehow she managed to nod, and the world stopped spinning long enough for the most terrifying image to cross her eyes.

Her son, her sickly babe, grim and miserable with the wrath of the Mad king in his eyes. She knew he would kill her, mother or not.

"Did you or Jaime... did you push a boy, ten years old, out of a window because he caught you fucking?" The words were harsh, cold but cracked as tears filled his eyes. That mattered less to her then the words themselves.

"I..."She remembered his orders, nodding instead of speaking. She couldn't lie, the fear was far too great.

The hand across her throat released in time with her son's sob, a broken sound that shattered her heart.

"He's a child mother, practically a babe... why here, why in this place, covered in people not loyal to you did you and my father think it a good idea to fuck." His words were practically whispers, for that she was grateful. "Why would you do that... why would you... here... when Myrcella and Tommen... and even Joff would be put to the sword." Her son gasped, his eyes wide as he struggled to breath. " Why... heee… wheee… would... you..."

"Shush,shush, breathe, you need to breathe." One hand on his chest and the other on his back, she led him to her bed and rubbed a soft pattern against his body, pressing his head against her breast. "Breath, Arryn, before you pass out." She held him, rocking her sickly son back and forth, listening to him sob against her breast in a way he never really had before. Not when he found out that he was sick, not when he lost his position as Heir to the Throne, not even when he saw his first death at a Tournament.

She enjoyed it no matter how much his misery wounded her.

"Why would you do this to us, Mother... I know you hate Robert, I do too... but here? Do we matter so little to you?"

His words struck a cord, she pulled him away from her breast and looked him in the eye. "You mean everything to me, all of you do. You are my reason for living, for breathing. If I didn't have you I would have thrown myself off of the Red Keep years ago."

"Then why... Mother, why here? Surely you know the consequences."

With a sigh, she nodded. "To feel... anything." She kissed his forehead, forgiving his assault of her earlier, knowing that like her he would do anything for his family. She saw it in his eyes. He was more dedicated then even she was. "Years of living with your grandfather, with Robert... I rarely feel any more. Being with Jaime... it makes me feel. It was stupid to be with him here, you are right. I beat myself up over it every day."

Silence filled the room, her son staring at her long and hard. Eventually he gave up, sighing softly. "I understand... is that why Jon Arryn died? Did he find out about you?"

"Yes... though I did not kill him. That was his wife or so I believe. That bitch was crazy enough, her fleeing the capital didn't help any." Brushing his hair, which she took out of it's braid, she relished in the contact with her son. He was so cut off from all but Myrcella and Tommen, it had killed her to see him kiss Lady Stark and Sansa so kindly. So lovingly... "Arryn... how did you know... about... about Jaime and I? Have you told any others?"

Slowly, her son shook his head, pulling away from her bosom with the most heart broken look. " And endanger Myrcella and Tommen? Never... as for how I know... your not discrete mother... do... do you remember when Joff killed that cat, taking out it's kittens?" She nodded, unable to mask the disgust on her face. "Yeah, well I am sure you remember how Robert punched Joff… you told him you would kill him if he did it again... I saw the look in your eyes and I wanted to hug you, to tell you that I hated Robert too so that you weren't alone... I tried to find you, I looked everywhere in the castle... then I found you, in one of the abandoned towers near the Library. You were kissing Jaime, then your dress was on the floor. I understood well enough, I saw Robert fucking whores a few months earlier and had looked into my books to understand. I was so angry at you... but when I thought about it, I stopped being angry. He was good to you when Robert was a beast... I am proud that he is my father."

Those words, simple and beautiful, were worth more to Cersei then all of the gold in the world. She squeezed her son tight.

"Thank you... thank you so much for understanding."

"Myrcella found out too but no I didn't tell her. She's a smart girl, mother..."

Cersei actually flinched away from her son. "She... knows... " Sighing softly, a shocking bout of laughter came to her throat. "And here I thought I was good at discretion."

"Not a all."

They shared a laugh at that, and some of the pressure in the room eased up.

"What are you going to do now?"

The anger shifted into cold efficiency far too like her Father for comfort. "I am going to do what I always wanted to do. I am going to make my name known to all and I am going to keep my little siblings safe. Bran cannot be allowed to reveal what he saw, for our sake. An evil deed but a necessary one. We may not be Tully's, but family must come first."

She kissed his brow. "Always my sweet...Always."

"I need to get on the Small Council Mother." She gasped, pulling away but was shocked to see his eyes were just as serious. "Joff is as much a danger to us as Bran is. Someone needs to keep him from making any more enemies... I can do that. I have always been good with him. Having some power on my own will help when he comes into office. It might be enough to keep us all safe."

"It is a pity you are so young, you'd make an excellent Hand..."

**The words of his mother did little to comfort the hate he felt towards her, his hate did little to stem the love he was irritated still flooded his heart for her. He cursed himself, his weakness. First Caitlyn and now his Mother... soon all would be able to control him.'**

_'How pitiful I am...' _Leaning against his mother he was unable to stop the delighted sigh escape his chest. '_How I wished for this, when I was younger and thought I was dying...' _

The sound of her heart, beating faster then it should, lulled him into a near sleep. His last thoughts echoing in his heart as darkness and stress took their tool.

_'I will keep Myrcella and Tommen alive... even if it costs me my name... I will not allow you to destroy us Mother. You, or Joff or Tyrion or even Tywin... I have gained allies in Sansa and Arya and Lady Stark, but they are too young to have any allies. I will be their sword, their shield. I will be remembered. By them most of all... The sins of my family will not destroy those most pure. I will never allow it... I will never allow it.' _

* * *

**Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews. **

**I sort of realized that his story is sort of a Sad twist on a Empathetic melding of Tywin and Tyrion. Endless compassion and concern for a family that is sabotaging itself out of ego and greed, endangering the most innocent of all. **He is playing a game, just not their game. His goal is for the survival of the two younger kids now that he realizes how far his mother has gone and how likely Joff is to be king...

**I love showing that despite being smart he is still a broken child. I will be showing a flashback to his youth, to the lonliness we have been alluded too.. **

**Love, your Ninja Overlord, **

**Mika. **


	4. Burning of Bridges- The cost of love

**Fun fact, i based his desire to make a sewage system on Tyrion's positon as head of Cisterns and Drains of Casterly Rock. I forgot, geuinely, that they ended up make a real sewage system after the series which improved the health of the people... **

**Things will change, Minor and Major depending on certain events and the influence of Arryn. **

**Unpopular opinion- Ned Stark was almost a villan and people like him are why the Mad King Flourished for so Long**

**Also keep in mind that this is only in Arryn's perspective all events are shown as he reacts to them not from the perspective of those involved like Dany etc**

* * *

**"You are always welcome in Our Home." Caitlyn's warm arms wrapped around the young Prince, feeling the boy's sharp muscular frame and cold skin even through her cloaked body. "As long as I am alive, as long as my son lives, you will have a friend and an ally in me." She ignored the slight gasp of the Queen, choosing to focus solely on the boy she embraced. Pulling back, she could not help but smile at the slight flush and almost embarrassed smile on Arryn's face. "Though you are young you" She turned and gave an equally warm smile to Tommen and Myrcella." And the two of you, have done me and my Bran a great service, one far beyond keeping me company. You kept me afloat during this dark time and ensured that my son will still be able to fulfill his duties and embrace all that life has taken from him. Neither I, nor the rest of my family, ever forget that." **

"It was my pleasure, my Lady. An honor I was glad to convey."

They shared a moment, smiling at each other for a moment before Caitlyn released the boy and stepped back to stand by Robb. Her son looked at her, proud and surprised, clearly not seeing her shaking hands.

"I am glad that you have come out of Bran's room, I thought you would never leave." He whispered, soft and sweet, in her ears. His eyes filled with concern and hope, hope that she would not cut herself off to the world as she already had done.

The thought filled her with shame, only years of training and experience with keeping a strong front held back her flush. "Had the Royal Siblings not spoken to me, I do not doubt that I would still be hold up there. I had forgotten myself, and in doing so I almost missed my daughters and husband leaving." She held herself tall, looking for her Sansa and finding her with the Eldest Prince, holding on his arm softly while giving him the most adorable lovers eyes. _'I pray he is a good man. Her loving nature will make her easily taken advantage of if he is not.' _

She did not bother to walk to her daughter, knowing fully that she would appreciate any gesture, not while she was so focused on the Prince. Arya however, standing with her father, would and so Caitlyn walked to her daughter, kneeling to embrace her fully. Arya buried her face into Caitlyn's neck and squeezed her tight.

"Be good for your Father, he is going to be very busy in the Capital. Can you do that for me?"

Arya snorted but nodded. "I'll try."

"That is all I ask. I love you, Arya."

"I love you too. I'm going to miss you." She squeezed tighter, desperate to hold her daughter and never let her go. After Bran, she couldn't bear the idea of losing another child. Even if that was merely leaving for the Capital for a few months.

When she had to let go, it took all she had to not flee back to Bran's room and hide herself from the world. The realization of her daughters' departure hit harder then she ever expected. She could only pray to the Mother that their time in the South was happy and helpful, that they fulfilled all of the dreams the could grasp...

**"Up you go!" Myrcella giggled loudly as he lifted her, her tiny legs kicking until she threw them over his horse Lilac. "Hold tight and be careful." As he tossed himself up onto the horse, he fought a grimance as familiar agony shot through him, sticking in his joints and making the motion difficult. Still he managed to land behind his sister, pulling her flush against his body with one hand, holding onto the reigns with the other. **

All would have been well, however within seconds he saw he mother walking towards his horse with her usual sense of entitled urgency. Talk and bonding or no, his mother could be quite annoying even before she spoke.

"Myrcella, why are you on that horse instead of in the carriage?" Though mellow and soft, her normal disinterested but false tone she used to convey a sense of power and dignity, there was an edge of control to their mother's tone. An expectation of command, one all Lannister's knew all too well.

His little sister actually cringed for a moment before sighing and turning to their mother. "The carriage axel broke more then thirteen times on the trip here. The Roads are too wild and rocky for it to hold us all safely. Isn't wiser if we rode? I haven't rode a horse in so long Mother and it has been a long time since Arryn has been this comfortable and strong. I want to enjoy while I still can." Her lip wiggled, her eyes wide with false tears. Myrcella looked the image of innocence and begging.

Even their stone cold mother could not hold up against it, she sighed loudly and looked at him. The look wasn't her normal private love, shallow and commanding. This was intimate and powerful, a look forged from recent understanding and a depth of value. He understood it well, he felt the same way after their discussion earlier that day.

"Please keep her safe, if she is so much as bruised she will be riding in the carriage for the entire month. Are we understood?" Both siblings nodded, and she let out another sigh. "Be careful, both of you." Her façade broke at their combined smiles, she was unable to hide her own smile even as she walked away.

Leaning in, her whispered softly in his little sister's ears. "You could charm the Mad king into a tea party, you know that right."

Her sweet, soft laughter echoed across the courtyard.

Yes, yes she most definitely did know that.

* * *

"**... But Walder Frey has nearly a hundred living descendants. The Green Fork is a vital position in crossing, the tolls they extort from all that cross it are why they moved from a weak vassal house into a powerful force." Cersei's voice echoed from within her room on the tavern they were staying at, disgust clear in her tone. Jaime was all too familiar with the sound, so familiar in fact that her next words were almost impossible to understand. "They would be a good family to marry into, Uncle Keven's wife is a Frey and she gave him five children." **

"Including poor Lancel. Who's idea was it to make Him Robert's squire."

With the addition of Arryn's voice, Jaime all but fell over in shock. '_She hates the idea of marrying our children off. In nine years she battled over forty different offers of marriage for Joeffery alone. Twelve for Myrcella and four for Tommen...and yet here she is, discussing marriage offers for Arryn. What could have changed?'_

A little desperate and more then a little confused, Jaime walked through the tent entrance, taking in his beautiful sister and second eldest son looking over a map of Westeros, both with equal looks of concentration in their eyes. It took a soft cough for both to look up, and once again their looks were equally powerful. Cersei's of love and devotion, Arryn's of happiness and determination.

It warmed the cockles of his heart.

Approaching his sister, as close as could be socially acceptable, Jaime was surprised when Cersei's hand grasped the outside of his armor, turning to give him a nervous but determined stare. "Jaime...he... he knows." The words were all but whispered but their impact was almost equal to a swarm of raging dragons. His eyes burned into his son, who nodded softly.

"We can discuss that later, where there are less ears about... but for now, Mother and I are discussing my future marriage possibilities." His son chuckled. " A daunting task, I confess. I was sick for so long few people know anything about me and many would see me as a poor match. Mother and I are trying to change that, I hope to convince Robert to allow me audience with or a position on the Small Council. Give power to my name outside of Baratheon or Lannister. However since we cannot do much on that front here, we are considering what families I could marry into. Joeffery is marrying Sansa Stark, and I have gained them as allies independently...so we were thinking of where I could gain a foothold for out family where we do not already have one, or at the very least strengthen our foothold where it may be weak. So far we have considered Frey who has a large number of daughters and granddaughters is our weakest option, he has control over the Fork and a variety of vassals that would also owe me at least some loyalty, this would also create a stronger connection to the Tully's since they are the leigelords of the Freys. Tarth through Lady Brienne, who has been through three engagements according to mother, that would give me connections to a Baratheon vassal and an entry point on the Narrow Sea. Also Lady Brienne is apparently a fierce fighter so I would physically safe with her, always a wonderful facet I do believe. Lastly my cousin Shireen. We all know Renly will never have an heir and Stannis only has a daughter, so if I marry her then I would have control over Stormsend and Dragonstone as well as a large number of Vassals. Really she is the best option I have at the moment."

It took the Kingslayer a moment to digest all he just heard, but slowly his mind began to shift through the information until something useful managed to slip out.

"That would work... I have never met Brienne of Tarth but I know her father dotes on her, I am not sure he would allow a marriage after her others failed so miserably. Stannis might be hard to work with, I do not think he would agree to the match but I do know Walder Frey would jump at the chance to marry one of his children to you. Miserly old man is desperate for a taste of real power, always has been."

Both Queen and Prince nodded, equal consideration in their eyes.

Cersei spoke first, leaning forward on the map, her fingers dancing across the map. "I cannot think of any worthy Freys. Most are ugly, greedy creatures like their Lord. Dull creatures, boring... if we are to arrange this we must find a worthy child. Then you can give me many grandchildren." Twinkling and bright, Cersei's eyes almost lit up the room and once again Jaime was reminded of why he loved her so fiercely. She could be cruel, yes but so often she was fierce and beautiful and beyond compare.

Laughing softly, Arryn shook his head. " I hope that I can give you grandchildren." His eyes focused on Jaime as well, causing an equal swelling of pride to fill Jaime's chest knowing that not only did his son acknowledge him but that he would be given grandchildren who would love and cherish him fiercely. "I admit mother, I never thought I would get the chance to have children. It is a strange but wonderful thought... sigh... but first we have to make me worthy. My Illness will make many matches impossible and others would outright consider it an insult. Stannis' poor luck with producing male heirs and the sickly nature of his daughter might make me seem like an insult... sigh politics are exhausting."

"Agreed." Though she said those words, Cersei leaned against her son with a warm smile.

It was a moment to remember...and then Jeoffery charged into the room, throwing himself in the closest chair, screaming in rage. " THAT LITTLE BITCH ATTACKED ME, I WANT HER HEAD!"

Peaceful moment shattered, all three of the other Lannisters charged Jeoffery assessing his injuries. Jaime knew instantly that his Eldest was barely hurt, the injury would barely scar with the most effortless of treatment. It took all he had not to slap his son upside the head, to scold him for being such a little cunt over such a pitiful injury.

His mother did not have this ability, screeching sharply. " What happened to you?" Almost as quick as he assessed his son's injury, Cersei began to break down, pushing Joff's sleeve up, eyes wide with rage. " What happened?"

"That little bitch, she attacked me, her and her little butcher's boy. They beat me with clubs then set her wolf on me."

Vomit rose to Jaime's throat. '_How could a squirt of my seed create such a pathetic little cunt. There are no bruises, welts, red marks or any kind of defensive injury. The bite marks are less then half an inch deep on a fleshy part of the arm. I doubt it even hurt that much. _

"Lying is unbecoming, Brother." Arryn somehow broke the tension, and the rest of the Lannister's turned towards him. "You have not a single bruise on you, nor do you have a single red mark aside from the bite. I would bet anything that either the Butcher's boy or Arya have some sort of mark on them and if we asked them they would call you a liar."

Joff actually growled. "You can't talk to me like that! They attacked me I want their heads."

" She's a Stark and the daughter of Robert's closest ally, his brother in all but blood. You will never be able to spin this in any way that makes you look good." Soft and strong the words were the literal antithesis of Jofferey's anger. " If you want to keep any allies in the future, dear brother, for no one is loyal simply because of your name... you need to learn to lie, the control the situation... It would be wiser to either not say anything or at the least not make a production of it. Give no quarter, make no enemies... no more then you already have. Placating father, gaining his admiration like you so crave will never happen if you create any rift between him and Lord Stark."

Much to the amazement of Jaime, anger actually drained from Joffrey's face and in it's place was an odd calm. One that usually only his mother could invoke, quiet but rare contemplation.

"What should I do then? Let her get away for attacking me, let her wolf get away with nearly tearing off my arm?"

'_What will you say now, Arryn?' _He was curious, almost bewilderingly so. Years of isolation and illness has, much to Jaime's shame, made his son almost a stranger to him. He had no idea how the boy would react or how he would advise his temperamental shithead of a brother.

Reaching forward, Arryn grasped the boy's arm. "What actually happened? If I am to advise you it is best if I know the entire truth. Let nothing out, Brother."

"Does it matter? The girl and the Wolf attacked him, a treasonous act." Cersei's voice and face were filled with venom reserved only for Tyrion and those that attacked her family. "A punishment need to be met out."

"Mother, weather we like it or not, Father loves Lord Stark and holds most others in contempt. If we play against Lord Stark in this we are the ones who will lose. Every time. I have never even the man happy until we came to the North. If Joff is going to keep any good will with our father we have to play in favor of Lord Stark and his daughters. I don't like it either but we have to do it." Turning back to his brother, ignoring his still raging mother, Arryn nodded. "What happened?"

And so Joff told the tale of his confrontation with Arya Stark, a tale that proved his son's cowardly nature, cruelty and general stupidity. The bile returned to Jaime's throat, the urge to beat his son became almost impossible to ignore.

From the look in Arryn's face, though it lasted for but a moment, he felt something similar.

"Alright... Say... say it was a training gone wrong... that you did not realize that Arya was going to train with the Butchers boy. You genuinely thought that he was trying to hurt her and thought to educate him on the futility of his actions but in doing so infuriated the Wolf who did it's duty and protected it's mistress. You, you are going to admit that you shamed yourself and say that you will do better. Be better, apologize to Stark girl and to Lord Stark... then have her Wolf sent back to the North, both wolves, that way they are out of our hair."

Wide eyed and infuriated, Joffrey all but screamed. "But they attacked me! I am the Prince!"

"And Father is the king and if you show him humility, you will ensure that Arya looks the part of the bratty child whilst you are the mature adult. Cutting her off at the knees entirely and making yourself look noble in the niave eyes of the northerners. None value concepts like nobility and honor then the Stark family, everyone knows that."

Slowly Joffrey actually began to nod, seemingly understanding his brother's wisdom. "Cut her off at the knees... I can do that." His cruel smile returned for a moment and Jaime knew that by the days end, though the Stark girl would live, someone was going to die.

For that look was all too similar to the Mad Kings before Jaime rammed his sword through his stomach.

The look in Cersei's told him Arryn's wise advice had gone unheeded.

* * *

**The look on Eddard Stark's face brought a rare feeling of true fear in Arryn's heart. The man, a warrior of rare skill, was staring down at the world with a wrath that once helped win a war. Though he had never seen him fight, it was impossibly clear from every motion the man made that he was highly trained. He was someone to fear, and with the power that the North had backing him... **

Yet it was not the look of a warrior that scared Arryn so but the look of a father, desparate and afraid and worried for his child. The man broke through his mother's obnoxious guards leaning down to watch over his terrified daughter. Poor Arya, having been found by his mother's guards, was pale and shaking. There was no sign of her wolf, her clothes were dirty and ruffled and she seemed ready to run.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." She all but begged as her father grabbed her face.

"You hurt?"

"No."

"It's alright." He pulled her close, clear relief in both Starks. "What is the meaning of this? Why was my daughter not brought to me at once?" His words echoed with pain and the familiarity of a warrior, a dangerous combination that only added to Arryn's fear.

Without hesitating he placed a hand on his mother's back, pressing lightly in a desperate attempt too keep her calm. He prayed, though he knew there was no gods to hear it, that for once she would not let her obsession with Joffrey overtake her logic.

"How dare you talk to your King in that manner" Her words held no real power, only her typical anger.

Robert all but sighed as he spoke. " Quiet woman." Dismissive and disrespectful, it was any wonder he still had a head with the hatred all but pouring from his mother in the moment. "Sorry Ned. Never meant to frighten the girl. But we need to get this business done quickly."

"Your girl and that butchers boy attacked my son. That animal of hers nearly tore his arm off."

Arya yelled out. "That's not true!"

In that instant, Arryn knew he had lost in this attempt to keep the peace. He knew that no matter what else happened, his Arya would never realign with him. His mother had burned that bridge in an instant, and with her usual level of care.

Sighing, he removed his hand, disgusted with his mother and filled with guilt. He turned and stared at Arya, who actually looked back at him. He tried, desperately, to convey his apologies to the girl. He wanted to pull her towards him, to hold her and offer every sympathy he could managed to scrounge up, but saw nothing but disdain and pain in her eyes.

Without care, he whispered softly. "I am sorry."

She saw it, and much to his surprise, actually seemed to understand or at the very least accept his apologies.

"She just bit him a little. He was hurting Mycah." The Butcher's boy's name came up quickly, and with it a feeling of regret and worry.

'_Please, please do not hurt him Mother... or Joff, please do not let your egos result in the death of a child. We have enough blood on our hands as it is.' _He cursed his complacency, his stupidity. '_I cannot believe I forgot about him, I should have had a guard protect the boy or had him hidden at the least...' _

In his mourning, in his struggle to hide his tears and pain, Arryn missed a great deal. He knew that several minutes had passed during his attempt to calm himself but not a word entered his ears... so, when he opened his eyes and saw Sansa, terrified and all but crying, he knew that his family, that his mother had destroyed any love the Starks had for the Lannisters.

"It all happened so fast." Sansa lie was the final straw, the last spark that set within him fully the fires of shame and hate.

His heart turned hallow and without waiting for a dismissal, Arryn turned on heel and marched away unable to handle his first real and true failure. Thankfully, for him, no one noticed him, too caught up in the heat and anger of the situation. He was grateful for that, even as he ran from the tavern and into the woods. The path, though rough, was precise enough that even in the moonlight he did not fall.

He made it quite a distance, closer into the town when he saw exactaly what he feared.

Arryn never felt the urge to slaughter another person more then he had in that exact moment, watching the Hound carrying the dead body of an innocent child over the back of his horse. His hands shook and it took more strength then even the Gods could manage to stop from thrusting his sword into the smug, arrogant Hound's stomach.

"Why? Why would you do this?" His voice croaked, cracking under the weight of his pain, the shame of his family's actions. He looked into the Hound's face, desperate and all but praying to see a silver of remorse in the man's eyes. "He was a child? You know Joff was lying about the attack, you've seen what he is capable of."

All the Hound did was shrug. "I do as I'm told, same as any actual knight would have." Mockingly cruel, the man lead his horse past Arryn, the boy's body actually brushing up against him.

Arryn fell to his knees as the pain of the situation hit him...

_'Is this really what my family is? My mother, my brother... my weak adopted father... are they all like this? There is no way that Robert could not tell Joff is lying, his cruelty is known by all.'_

He had no idea how long he sat upon his knees, but eventually he felt a soft hand on his shoulder, jerking him into the real world. He did not need to look around, he knew who it was. The Scent of Lavender Oils made it effortlessly clear.

"Why, Mother... why would you condemn to death a child? Why would you promote my brother's madness? Did you at least spare the wolves?" He whispered, knowing despite his pain to be quiet even on the road. You never know who was listening.

With more strength then he expected, his mother pulled him off of the ground and pulled him into her chest. "It is a mother's duty to protect her children, that is what I did. And no, one escaped but the other was slain. Lady I believe she was called."

"Even from the consequences of his own actions?"

"Especially then."

" I was so focused in stopping my brother's evil that I forgot about yours." Yanking himself out of his mother's grasp, he put all of his pain and hate into his eyes. " I wonder, mother dear, if this is why Joff is such a monster. If maybe you bothered to be a parent instead of coddling him, then perhaps Westeros would actually have hope for the future. Congratulations on raising the next mad king. I hope your happy."

His heart burned with familiar agony as he remembered, despite her recent kindness just how much he had loathed his mother before this.

_'How could I have forgotten her evil? She ignored his abusing Tommen, she ignored his slaughter of that pregnant cat... until recently I could count the conversations I had with my mother on one hand. Damn it, I let myself get caught up in my own happiness. I am a fool indeed... I will never forget this mother... I will never forget what you did. I will not forget what you really are again...' _

**As her son walked away, Cersei felt her heart breaking in equal measure to the rage building in her heart. _'How dare he speak to me like that! Joff is not the mad king he's... cruel, sadistic and enjoys hurting others. Sigh, I pray that he's wrong.' _**

Not a fool, Cersei followed her son and returned to the Tavern, ignoring the looks of hate and distrust in the eyes of the Stark men that she passed by. Her skin crawled, feeling the danger of her situation.

_'He's right... I destroyed any alliance we once had with them... they will have to die along side Lord Stark.'_

Within her heart, within her mind, she envisioned the smug bastards face as his head rolled on the ground. His wild beast of a girl would follow suit for daring to touch her son.

_'There is no way Sansa would stay engaged to Joffrey if her father and sister died by our hands. She would live to kill Joffrey just as I plan to kill Robert and I cannot allow that.'_

**The guards in front of Lord Stark's room gave a near sickening look to Arryn, sickening him. It was a reminder of his failure to stop his mother's bloodlust, a reminder he would keep close to his heart. "Please, I would like to speak to Lord Stark." **

"Lord Stark is having no visitors, your Grace."

Sighing, he focused fully on the men. "I figured as much but it is important. I would rather not invoke my father's name but this important."

His words had the impact he had hoped for, the guards shared a look before one went inside the man's doors. Less then a minute passed before he returned. "Lord Stark will see you now."

Striding past the man, Jory he believed his name was, Arryn found himself of a very tired looking Ned Stark, holding Arya and Sansa close to him. The man's eyes were red, clearly he had either been crying or was exhasuted. Guilt filled his very bones at the knowledge that his mother had caused such pain.

"I know it might not mean much... but I did try to reason with my mother, before you were brought forth. I suggested that they send the Wolves to the North, back to Winterfell. I know the truth well, Arya... my mother... there is no excuse for her bloodlust. I am sorry... For what little is worth, I will be paying for Mycah to have a full funeral. What the Hound did was unforgivable...truthfully." Sighing he approached the girls, kneeling in front of them both, grabbing their hands. "I do not ask you to forgive my mother, or my brother... I am not if I can do that now. What I can promise you, is that I am not like them nor is Tyrion, Myrcella or Tommen. None of us would or done that."

There was a pause, where no one spoke... then Arya turned to him and tossed herself into his chest, crying softly as she mourned the loss of three important figures in her life. He didn't speak further, just held the girl and rubbed her back.

There was no darker intentions here. It wasn't for an alliance... it was an apology... it was a mourning...

It was a lesson and one he would never forget.

_'Mother cannot be trusted... if I am to accomplish anything, I have to ensure that my power is out of her control entirely.'_ Sighing, he turned inwards. '_A month ago, all I wanted was to survive and gain a name that people would remember... and now I want to be on the Small Council and stop my mother and brother from burning as all... it is amazing how much can change when you see a person's true face...' _His eyes turned towards a crying Sansa, and he felt some part of his heart cool. '_She is weak, she didn't lie to support Joffrey or fear of my mother. She did it to support her obsession and naivety towards my brother. She deserves her sadness, even if it cost that poor wolf... I cannot trust her in the future. Sister or not... she is too easily maneuverable, a perfect puppet for my mother and brother.' _He shuddered as a thought came to him. '_I need to get on the small council sooner then later... I cannot believe I am saying this even thinking it... I need my Grandfather's help.'_

* * *

**Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews. **

**This was fun and hard and sad to write. I loved this scene and I really wanted to show that not everything can change despite his best efforts, Cersei is insane and impulsive and would act outside of wisdom. Joffrey would rather enjoy his violence then listen to his brother even if Arryn was right. **

**Love, your Ninja Overlord, **

**Mika. **


	5. Letters, Meetings and Statements

The Dragon Roar by Priestess of Groove is an utterly fantastic story I am reading. I'd advise you look into it! When you did say I sent you there!

* * *

**"Lord Tywin?" **

**Said Lord looked up from the swarm of papers filling his desk, his hand still grasping a quill. "What is it Keven?" At the door to his office stood his brother, a serious look on his face as per usual with a letter in hand. **

"A letter from your Grandson."

Disgust filled him, knowing the contents were probably worth little more the contents of his chamber pot. "What does Joffrey want?"

His brother actually shook his head, looking contemplative. "Actually no, it is from Arryn." Clearly a mark of surprise appeared on Tywin's face for his brother nodded. "I know, I was shocked to see it myself. I haven't read the contents but I admit I was tempted. What could the boy want, I thought he was all but bedbound."

"No, according to Pycelle the boy has been recovering significantly over the last year or so and actually accompanied Robert to Winterfell." Reaching for the letter, Tywin wasted not time in reading it genuinely curious as to it's contents.

_Dear Grandfather, _

_I write to you now, hoping that you when you read this that you consider it not as my Grandfather, not as the Father of Cersei Lannister but as the Lord of Casterly Rock. As the Man who was once the Hand of the King, who all but ruled Westeros for twenty years. For it is that man that I call to. _

From behind him Keven, who was reading the letter as well, made a sound. "Huh... what could he possibly want you for that would fore him invoke that part of you?"

"I have no idea."

_I have little doubt that you have a network of spies and Lord of Whispers all your own, if any of the stories that I grew up on were true. My Father, King Robert, has recently appointed Lord Eddard Stark as a Hand and such we journeyed to Winterfell where I made efforts to gain the alliance of House Stark outside of the current Lord. Father's lack of allies beyond Lord Stark and the struggles he has in court inspired such action. _

_I am aware that I will never be King and in this I am comfortable, I only wish to bring honor and success to my House be it Lannister or Baratheon._

"It seems at least one of your legacy cares about our house. If you refuse to allow Tyrion to become your Heir then perhaps you can Foster Arryn, mold him into your heir."

The Lord of Casterly Rock nodded. "I know little of my Grandson, he might be like his Mother or Father and I would rather have Tyrion as an heir then one like them..."

Both men shared a long, disgusted sigh at the current status of the current generation of Lannisters before returning to the Letter.

_In my pursuits, I gained the alliance of Lady Caitlyn and her Daughters Arya and Sansa. I know, from Mother's rants, that you hold women in little respect however Sansa is to be Queen and Arya will be the Lady of a powerful House. Lady Caitlyn is not only the Lady of Winterfell but is a daughter of the Tully family. In making allies with them I have strengthened the connection we nearly lack with the North and several Southern Families. _

_I even considered marrying into the Frey family, like Uncle Keven, to strengthen out bonds with the Tully's as they have no daughters I could take as my bride. _

Both brother's shared a look, pleased. It was Keven that spoke first. "It seems that the boy understands his place, but I do not think the Freys would be the best option. His cousin Shireen would be preferable. Tearing control of the Stormlands and Dragonstone from the Baratheons would more then triple our army, giving us control over an armada once again as well as a large swath of Farmland."

"Perhaps but the girl is quite sickly and the chances of them creating an heir would be lower. Especially if she is anything like her mother. Three miscarriages, no sons?" Tywin shook his head. "Not that that fool Stannis would ever allow it. He loathes my daughter and Robert too much to ever allow it."

_All seemed well... and then my mother and Joffrey destroyed this._

Tywin nearly groaned. "What did they do?"

_Due to a confrontation with Arya Stark, one Joffrey initiated ( In which he attacked the girl and a friend of hers) and lost due to Arya defending a friend of hers along side her Direwolf, a Northern Boy was slaughtered by the Hound and Lord Stark was forced to slaughter one of the Direwolves. Sansa, Joffrey's betrothed. _

"That foolish boy. Someone needs to take him to task."

_It did not have to be this way, I actually managed to get my Brother to toe the line and act contrite. An act you may loathe but one that would have won over Lord Stark and Robert. Playing Arya to be a bratty child instead of what she actually was, a terrified girl who defended her friend. My mother would not have this and Headed the trial destroyed all that I had laid out, insulting Lord Stark and his children and destroying what little respect the North may have had for or towards the crown. _

Both men placed the letter down, sharing a look of disgust.

"Your daughter will be the end of us Tywin. She has spoiled that boy to the point of madness."

Lord Tywin snapped the quill in his hand. "Pycelle has informed me of such, I would have corrected it years ago but Robert all but banned me from the capital and Cersei would never allow me access to Joffrey's upbringing. Looking over my other grandson has been a mistake, clearly. His mother's claws have yet to dig into him, tainting him with her stupidity and arrogance. He may be salvageable... I wonder what it is that seeks from me."

_I have spent some time trying to reconnect with Arya and Sansa, with some success. The girls are young, easily swayed but their Lord Father is not as you can imagine. His loyalty to Robert is disgusting, more akin to a disgruntled cuckholded wife then friends. I do not doubt that when he reach the capital, which should be in three or so weeks from the mailing of this letter, that conflict will rise between my Mother and Lord Stark. She is too protective and refuses to experience consequences, or allow Joffrey to do the same and he is too bound by pointless honor towards his worthless friend who has will be buried due to his own vices before long. _

_I wish to change this, to stem the flow if only slightly. My brother will become King in the next few years, Robert's health is waning with each year and in truth we know that will not likely be what kills him. He is a fool, a cruel fool that will destroy everything without someone to watch him. The Small Council has failed to do this with my father, and many of them failed with the Mad King. _

_So I wish to take a place on the Council and stem the flow before we are awash in the cost of sins and stupidity. This is where I ask your help, pull the countless strings I know you still have and get my appointed to the council. I will report to you through any of your agents, I know letters are too easily intercepted but I have no other options. I will listen to your advice and orders if I must. _

_Help me help the realm before my mother and brother destroys it all. _

Sheer silence, the weight of disgust and fear and intrigue lay on the elderly Lannisters. The actions of Cersei and Joffrey, the stain they had cast over the Lannister name was nearly too much to take. Neither man was fully able to stomach it and so they sat back, digesting the words and the request. More then twenty minutes past, a bell tolled in the distance to show the passage of time but neither man was able to move or even care.

Tywin considered his grandson, the little he knew of the boy, and much to his shame all he could remember about the boy aside from his illness was his name and the story behind it. How Cersei had sent letters crowing about her poor sick boy, destined to die in the cradle, being named Arryn after Jon Arryn's Maester saved his life and successfully treated the boy enough that had survived the cradle. She had wanted to name the boy Alywin but Robert had drunkenly demanded that Arryn name be given to the sickly boy in honor of his successful treatment. Those letters numbered near fifty before they stopped.

"We know nothing of the boy, Tywin... but perhaps putting him on the council would not be a bad idea. Not in a position of true power, but in an advisory role. The Lord Commander has no actual power on the Council but often spoke to the condition of the city and the guard. Pycelle could watch over him, see if he worth anything."

Unable to fully hide his surprise, Tywin looked at his younger brother and lieutenant with a rare measure of pride. "A fine suggestion and one I will take. If he is indeed worth anything I may have also gained a better heir as well." It took him several minutes but eventually a letter was scribed. "Have that sent to Pycelle."

* * *

**The bumpy road shook through his horse's legs, rocking through Arryn's entire frame. _'This is nauseating.' _His head ached, his body was sore and the urge to light his mother's carriage on fire was all too great. All in all the day matched that of the last three weeks, miserable. However the immeasurably vast and foul stench of Kingslanding burned in his nose, sinking into his skin and leaving the already horrible day even more awful. **

Yet, there was a measure of hope, found in the simple fact that he could actually successfully avoid his mother here.

"Welcome Lord Stark." A familiar voice drew Arryn's attention. A toady of the Small council was standing, hand clasped behind his back, in front of a dismounted Lord Stark. " Grand Maester Pycelle has called a meeting of the Small Council. The Honor of your presence is requested."

Lord Stark turned to the cart behind him, where his daughter's and Septa sat. "Get the girls settled in. I'll be back in time for supper. Jory, you go with them."

"Yes my lord."

Said nameless toad shifted, clearly uncomfortable with something. "If you'd like to change into something more appropriate." Lord Stark merely took off his gloves, dismissive and almost bored. "Prince Arryn, your presence has also been requested my Grand Maester Pycelle."

_'I hope Grandfather came through for me... and that he did not tell mother about that letter. I do so enjoy living.'_ Gathering his courage, ignoring the eyes of those around him, he dismounted his steed, handing him off to one of the servants that approached. Trotting over to Lord Stark, who seemed thrown by the sudden change in plans, he smiled disarmingly as possible. "Well, shall we hurry Lord Stark. I am eager to join my first Council meeting."

The gruff man blinked at him, even as they walked away from the rest of the people behind them. "I did not realize that you were part of the Small Council, Arryn."

"I wasn't until today. I have to thank your wife, if it wasn't for her, I would never have considered doing more with my life. I will have to remember that." He ignored the man's strange uncomfortable look, choosing instead to focus on the sweat burning on the man's brow. "You should have taken his suggestion to change your clothes. What your wearing is impractical for this heat. I changed the moment we were close enough." He ran a hand down his front, showing his light airy clothes, which revealed his collar bone and most of his neck. All of his clothes were light, more akin to a ride tunic though embroidered with the image of waves. A fun project of his. "I can have something made for you, and your daughters. Something more comfortable, though I would still ensure your house collars and Sigil remain intact upon it."

The man simply stared. " I appreciate that offer, but I must decline."

"If this is because of my mother then you are a fool. Your have a minute from collapsing Lord Hand. The offer isn't meant to be demeaning or even to make amends, it is so you can do your best work and not die of heat stroke." He almost flinched at his own words, knowing how disrespectful they were, but passions were running high due to his still aching body. He almost bowed to the man. "My apologies, my illness is making me quite... put out. I am in pain at the moment and the ride didn't help. Still, my offer remains."

"It is alright, I cannot imagine how your feel at the moment... " The look he gave Arryn was fatherly, warm and a tad sorrowful."Very well. Just... nothing red or gold."

They shared a smile, one oddly mischievous from Lord Stark, nearly identical to Arya's own.

Soon enough they reached the entrance to the Throne room, passing through it's guarded doors to see his true father sitting on the steps. Handsome and smug, it was an easy thing to see why people held his father in such contempt... that he was standing next to the source of that nickmake, Lord Eddard himself, only made it easier to imagine.

Tension erupted in the room before anyone spoke, conflict boiled between the two men. It was almost too much for Arryn.

"Uncle, it has been miserable without you on the road. I know it was necessary to ride ahead, but you were missed." He ignored Lord Stark fully, stepping ahead to hug his True Father. "I could have used your company."

Smugness burned away to genuine warmth, and the tensions began to wash away. " It was a necessary evil... I hear that you were given a spot on the Council. How did that happen?" Worry wiggled in the man's voice as only a parent could manage.

"That is a secret, dear Uncle... but for now, we really do have to go." He gave his Father a look, one of warning and of begging. He enjoyed the soft, brief sigh that preceded his father's nod. " Lord Stark, the meeting room is this way. Follow me if you please."

Lord Stark seemed almost put out, offended that he could not verbally spar or insult Jaime. "Go ahead, I'll be there in a moment."

_'For such an honorable man, he seems almost driven to get in conflict with my uncle. Of course he also loves Robert so I shouldn't be surprised...' _Nodding to both men, giving a smile to his father, he hurried away to the Small council meeting room.

The wide eyed smile of his Uncle Renly warmed his heart. "Arryn, how did you manage to squirm your way to the Small Council? If you wanted a place you could have just asked me."

Flippant and foolish, his Uncle Renly was one of the few people who had ever bothered to speak to him whilst he was in the midst of his treatments. They were not overly close at the end of the day, but it was enough to appreciate the man.

"It wasn't exactly planned Uncle, more inspired and a tad reflexive. Lady Caitlyn reminded me, unintentionally, that hiding in my room was never going to help me make goals a reality. If I truly wish to help honor my name and my house then I have to actually do something. This just seemed like a natural place for me to do so... " As Renly nodded, he stepped past the man and walk towards the Table. "So, Grand Maester Pycelle, what exactly is my Position?"

Blinking and stuttering in the most false way possible, the old man turned to him with a slight jangle from his chains. From within his robes, he pulled out a letter. "This is from your grandfather. It was his recommendation that you take a place on the Small Council. Advisor in Practice, that is your new title. You have no individual responsibilities like the rest of us, you Govern no aspect of Government like Master of Coin or Master of Ships but you do have a voice here and a place to learn. Should you prove yourself worthy and capable we will see about awarding you a higher position of Governance. Until then sit, listen and provide whatever feedback you think is helpful, but do not speak needlessly."

Grasping the letter, he nodded. "Thank you and I understand. I have a few ideas that I wish to express to you all, ideas that may better the realm... but I imagine I have to wait until Lord Stark and my Uncle Jaime are done with their pissing contest." Peter Baelish, a scrawny smirking rat of a man, and his Uncle Renly both snorted whilst Lord Varys, a thick balding man in ugly robes, smirked playfully. "Pity, from the tension I felt I fear we may be waiting for a while... Lord Baelish, you are the Master of Coin, are you not?"

Said man nodded. "Of course, your Grace."

"How costly would the instillation of a massive sewer system akin to what exists in Casterly Rock be?"

Wide eyed and almost unsure, the man went silent for a moment. "Nearly a Million dragons for the actual construction and at least half of that for payment... nearly a hundred thousand to have the supplies collected and delivered. A rough estimate of course, I will have to run the numbers more closely to give you a better answer. Of course the hard part might just be finding someone skilled enough to create said sewer system. Why do you ask?"

All eyes were on him, in time for Lord Stark to enter with a constipated look on his face. "One of my many goals, one I actually managed to refine thanks to books I read while in Winterfell... Lord Stark, it seems that I have been promoted to Advisor in Practice. I look forward to working along side you in the coming years."

A little surprised, Lord Stark nodded appreciatively. " And I you, my Wife had a great deal to say about you." With another smile, he turned to Lord Varys. " Lord Varys." They shook hands while, to the surprised of no one, Varys began to lick a little ass.

"I was grievously to hear of the troubles on the Kingsroad. We are all praying for Prince Joffrey's speedy recovery."

Unable to mask it, Arryn snorted. "Pity you didn't mutter for young Mycah, a boy of ten was slaughtered Varys. I think that is worth more of your energy then a small bite mark." At the Master of Whisper's shocked look, Arryn fixed his face into impassive annoyance. "Even the King admitted he knew my brother was full of shit, it was only to make peace with my mother that he did so little. Don't act so surprised."

This earned him a warm look from Lord Stark as the man moved away towards Renly, embracing the younger man. "Renly, your looking well."

"And you look tired from the road. I told them this meeting could wait another day, but-"

Peter interrupted. "But we have a kingdom to look after. I've hoped to meet you for some time Lord Stark. No doubt your Lady Caitlyn has mentioned me."

"She has Lord Baelish. I understand you knew my brother Brandon as well."

The smug smile on Peter's face wavered just a little, something Arryn enjoyed. He had never liked the squirmly little worm of a man, he very much doubted anyone actually did.

"All too well. I still carry a token of his esteem from navel to collar bone."

This seemed to please the Lord of the North for it was his turn to look smug. "Perhaps you chose the wrong man to duel with."

"It wasn't the man I chose but Caitlyn Tully, My Lord, but Caitlyn Tully. A women worth fighting for, I'm sure you'll agree."

'_A there is that tension, must everyone piss at each other so frequently?' _

After a short pause, Maester Pycelle, the grey rat his mother so loathed, spoke up. "I humbly beg your pardon, Lord Stark."

"Grand Maester."

"How many years has it been? You were a young man."

"And you served another king."

Another awkward, irritating silence filled the room for just a moment but in that moment Arryn had had enough. " As did you, as did everyone in this room bar Renly and I. That's the thing about Rebellion and inheritance. Kings and Queens come and go but those beneath so frequently stay the same. Same Lord Commander, two members of the Kingsgaurd, dozens of officials, almost this entire council, most of the current Lords and Ladies. All artifacts of a terrible time we all need to move past, now I do believe there is work to do. Grand Maester you called this meeting, what is it about?"

The Foolish Maester stuttered and stumbled around his words for a moment before pulling out a familiar looking pin, handing it to Lord Stark. " I almost forgot, this belongs to you... and if you must know My Prince, this meeting is to work out the finer details of the tournament your Father has commanded us organize for Lord Stark."

"Of course he..." Sighing, knowing full well that this is what he father would have in mind, Arryn decided to embrace it. '_It may be a perfect entrance into working on the Small council. There is little harm I can cause if I do wrong while learning a great deal about managing events and money. Perfect.' "_ Since we are all here, Lord Hand shall we begin?"

"Your Father isn't here, Arryn."

"Nor will he be." Both the Prince and Lord Stark looked to Renly. " Winter may be coming but my brother surely isn't."

Varys, seeing the concerned confusion on Lord Stark's face, offered an explanation quickly. " His Grace has many has many cares, he entrusts a some small matters to us that we may lighten the load."

"We are the Lords of Small matters here." Peter Baelish ended, his smugness adding a dash more of concern to Lord Stark's already weak expression.

_'I wonder how many meetings Robert has attended. I doubt he has the stomach for it.' _He watched as Lord Stark was handed a roll of paper from Renly.

"As was mentioned, my brother has instructed us to stage a tournament in Honor of your appointment as Hand of the King."

In tandem, Lord Baelish and Arryn asked. "How much?"

With a sense of disgust in his voice, Lord Stark answered then both. " Forty Thousand Gold Dragons to the Champion, Twenty thousand to the Runner up, twenty thousand to the winning archer."

Those words hit Arryn like wild fire. "Why so much? That is more then some Lords make in taxes in a year. Lord Baelish, how would this impact our current treasury?"

Lord Stark actually nodded, clearly curious himself.

Peter actually seemed almost uncomfortable at the attention for once. " We don't have a treasury, we'd have to borrow it. The Lannister's will accommodate, I'm sure. We already owe Lord Tywin Three million what's another eighty thousand."

"Are you telling me that the Crown is three million in debt?" Lord Stark nearly had his jaw scraping the floor, but that was better then Arryn who actually felt the world swirl around him as he realized just how deeply fucked they all were.

'_My Grandfather owns us all... if he calls that due then we could afford nothing, Robert would be king in name only and no one would be stupid enough to pay a debtor anything.' _Taking a very deep breathe. he called out to Lord Baelish. "To whom else do we owe?"_  
_

_"_A Handful of smaller debts but the majority is another three million to the Iron Bank of-"

"Braavos…" The world span again and this time he had to actually grip the table to stop from collapsing. "Are you mad... please tell me you are joking? Unless you are paying them they own our country. They could collapse our entire economy or fund our enemies, entire Kingdoms have fallen at their hands. Please tell me that you are making some sort of payments or have organized a time of reprieve so that we are not accruing interest?" Silence, like wind in a crypt, raged within the confines of the Small Council Chambers and in it Arryn found a new hatred of Peter Baelish and the Small Council. It took everything he had, a force stronger then his urge to drown Joffrey after any time he hurt Tommen, not to bisect the worthless little man in front of him. "What is our tax revenue? Does it exist or is it simply fueling pointless expenses?"

Thankfully he somehow managed to keep his voice level enough that Peter didn't seem annoyed at him. "We make just enough to cover basic expenses with a little extra, and that is including what we get from tariffs on produce and trade. Around twelve million overall."

Shaking, Arryn actually stood. " Are you telling me that we owe nearly half of our annual income and that we do not make enough to even make payments? Who else is owed?"

"The Tyrells, the Faith and a few cartels in Tyrosh."

"My... you will be the ruin of us... or more accurately my father will... Lord Stark, I mean no disrespect but this feels more important then a tournament. I did not intend to break it away from you."

The handsome gruff Lord waved off his protests. "You make valid points. How did you all let this happen?"

Peter actually seemed offended, though it was clear that Arryn's words had left some impact what with him appearing a slight paler then before. "The Master of Coin finds the Money, the King and the Hand spend it."

"I will not believe that Jon Arryn allowed Robert to Bankrupt the Realm."

A sigh erupted from the Maester along side a snort from Arryn. " Lord Arryn gave Wise and prudent advice but I fear that his Grace didn't always listen to it."

"Calling Coppers he calls it." Poor Renly was rubbing his head, exhausting and embarrassment clear in his eyes.

The Lord Hand rolled up the scroll. "I'll speak to the King tomorrow. This Tournament is an extravagance we cannot afford."

"Maybe not." All eyes turned to Arryn, who admittedly flushed still not entirely used to all eyes on him without his temper flaring. Still an idea brewed in his head, one he could not help but be pleased with. "Renly... your friend Loras… he will be participating I assume?"

His Uncle nodded. " He always does."

"And Lord Baelish, would I be wrong in assuming that the swelling of people to watch the tournament brings wealth to the kingdom. Increased food, taxes and visits to shops including your brothels?"

"The Whores walk bowed legged in the streets, everyone knows that."

A smile crossed his face, melding with a smirk to make even his nasty mother proud. " Then I do believe that you should pay for Tournament, Lord Baelish, at least in part. You own the large number of successful Brothels, surely you can bear such a pitiful expense especially after a tournament more then to feed your business. We will place notice that the Knight of the Flowers is participating. Between him and my uncle, the most handsome men in all the realms, The girls will love it, I'm sure, more and more people would come to see them. We can have an admission fee, perhaps payed by those few knights that can pay and my those who wish to sell food or wine at the tournament." He enjoyed Lord Baelish's stunned, confused look and decided to pounce before the man refused. "If you lower your prices you will invite considerably more men to taste your wares, the numbers outweighing your lowered prices. You are the Master of Coin after all, to prevent further debt that would have us all suffer, this simple expense should be yours to pay. And given that a tournament takes weeks to gather the people to watch and play, you have plenty of time to gather the funds we need."

This time the silence was almost delicious, reeking of victory and pleasure. Everyone turned to Lord Baelish, looking smug and happy, even Lord Stark to some degree though the man seemed a little uncomfortable with the near blackmail being spewed towards the other Lord.

Renly, being arrogant and youthful, seemed almost orgasmically delighted. "My Nephew makes a valid point Baelish. You could easily support this a hundred times over without making a dent in your purse. As a matter of fact, I think we should be using this new purse to pay our debts, don't you nephew?"

"Oh at least partially... but I do believe we should wait for another day, when Lord Stark has had a chance to acclimate more fully to our Kingdom. Knowing exactly what is right and wrong with our government and the realm." Pleased with himself, his performance, he turned to the Lord Hand. "Does this seem reasonable, My Lord Hand?"

"I... I will still speak to the King, but if it is still to go on then yes, Lord Baelish you will fund it."

Cold and unyielding, Lord Baelish smiled. " As you wish, my Lord." His eyes turned to Arryn and in that moment he knew that he had made his first enemy.

_'Mother would be proud, I played well in my first day on the Council and pissed off a powerful man... wonderful. Still, I made an impression and I helped stopped an increase on our vast debt... next goal, find a way to start paying it before they burn us to the ground. It seems my dream of making the sewer system may just have to wait... at least until we can pay it off or have our debt held until we can build up our coffers. Damn it Robert, it wasn't enough that you drown yourself in tits and wine but you had to drag the rest of us into it... why couldn't you die off and leave governance to people who actually are good at it.' _

**'_Arrogant but wise, he reminds me more of Tywin then I would have expected.' P_****_ycelle starred at the newest member of the Small Council. 'I wondered when there would be another worthy Lannister, it seems outside of Keven and Tywin there was no hope for that House. I shall report this to Lord Tywin as soon as this meeting is over. I think he will be quite pleased.'_**

Turning softly, his took in the sight of an exhausted Lord Stark.

_'A good man, but far too close to that Drunken Oaf. No good will come of Lord Stark being the Hand, I am sure of it. He will be as ineffective as Lord Arryn was, indulging Roberts stupidity... but Arryn may be enough to stem the flow of that stupidity... too be seen it seems.' _

Satisfied, Pycelle turned his focus to the real world, joining the Lords of the Small council in marking out the firmer details of hosting such a tournament.

Only one last separate thought entered his mind before he fully embraced the meeting.

_'I will have to speak to our Prince, if he is to play a part then a greater understanding of the Council is in order. Lord Tywin wants him to be an asset to House Lannister, not a hinderance.' _

* * *

**Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews. **

**This was my favorite chapter to date. I wondered why the Debt wasn't more important early on, that is massive! I figured that a pragmatic person like Arryn with no interest in personal power would have something to say beyond the simple overly honor and friendship bound Ned Stark would. I like him taking an active role and excelling to everyone's surprise. **

**He is not perfect but he cares and he is competent and I think that with the influence of his family and status he can do some good. A hard task in Kingslanding. **

**Love, your Ninja Overlord, **

**Mika. **


	6. Appointments and Warnings

**This was hard for me to write, for a few reasons as I explain in the bottom... so please give me some feedback!**

* * *

The soft lull of a viola echoed through the halls as Renly approached his nephew's room, emotion welled in his chest at the melancholy sound. '_Does he have a performer in his room? How could he have organized such a talent so soon to returning to the Capital?' _Unfairly curious, Renly sped up his walk, nodding at the Knights outside that monitored the hall in which his Nephew called his own. A handsome lad, not too much older then Arryn, with thick red hair and a delicious beard. He knew, from experiance, that he would have likely bedded the man already at that age. He wondered if his nephew had, there had been a few rumors regarding his tastes. Since these rumors had come from stableboys that Renly had also indulged himself in, he was tempted to believe them.

Smirking a little at the guard, who only nodded in return, Renly knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" The sound of the Viola did not stop, but his Nephew's voice echoed over it.

"Renly, may I come in?"

There was a moment of silence, the viola itself stopped, before the voice returned. " Come in. Dagmir, if Renly approaches again please tell me. "

The Knight, apparently named Dagmir, nodded. " Of course your Grace."

_'Such obedience, and not an ounce of arrogance, I can see why my Nephew chose this man.' _Walking past the knight, he opened the door and took in the beautiful room. It was a far cry from the near empty quarters of Jaime Lannister or the animal covered walls of the Hunting Obsessed Robert. Beautiful tapestries, decorated with scenes of seas of grass and beasts of legends, Direwolves and Krakens and Dragons, covered many of the walls. More then a dozen dressers and cabinets lay snug against the walls, each ornate and beautiful and filled with who knew what. The floor itself had a lovely rug of some grey fur, ringing around the bed.

His nephew was sitting at a table nearest the window on the far right corner of the room, in his hands was a viola.

" I didn't realize you played, dear nephew?"

Arryn smiled, a handsome look that Renly enjoyed. "Most don't Uncle, or well they didn't. I performed alongside Lady Sansa at Winterfell, she has a gift for the High Harp that puts all of our minstrels to shame. I would love to hear her perform again... What is it that you wish to speak of?"

Sitting opposite of his nephew, Renly took a long breathe, considering his words, before speaking. "I wish to congratulate you on your new position. You seem to have a firm grasp for politics, which I admit I didn't expect. You were all but quarantined through your life bar a rare few moments. I know your mother never bothered to educate you in court intrigue, politics or anything regarding rule or governance. How is it that you came across your skills? As much as I enjoyed you putting Littlefinger in his place, I admit it was more then a touch suspicious. More then that, how is it that you convinced Tywin to get you a position on the Small Council?"

The question seemed to surpise his nephew, enough that poor boy began to put his viola away. "I... well I am not sure. Perhaps it is natural. Perhaps it has to due with the fact that I am an apt student of history and have read countless tomes involving the ruling of our country. For so many years that was my only window, into the world around.. I suppose that is what grants me the skills I need to govern... still, I am always open to further lessons. Tell me, you've been involved in goverence for some time. What is the secret that you've learned, one you didn't or couldn't anticipate."

The Youngest Baratheon son actually flinched, a moment of shame and discontentment boiling in his chest as he considered the state of the Realm and his part in it. "That the trick to ruling is lying, you place a face of prosperity to hide the shit behind you. A trick you out to learn if you intend to act with any measure of skill.

"A lesson I hope to embrace... but in that, I must ask you, Renly... what other shit are you hiding underneath that Mask of prosperity? Six million is debt cannot be all if my father is so deeply inept as I imagine. I do not trust the others to be honest with me, I know that most see me as merely a child and each has their own goals. It was clear on their faces that they did not enjoy my prying, Littlefinger especially."

Nephew and Uncle shared a long laugh, enjoying the notion of Littlefinger's displeasure. Once the laughter faded, Renly took on a rare serious face and faced his nephew fully.

"Honestly, there are more issues then I can safely tell you. Bribery in the Goldcloaks, pressures by and for certain houses to replace your mother as my Brother's wife, unsavory rumors that threaten more then you realize... speaking of rumors, I'd advise more discretion of you are going to continue to enjoy our stableboys."

_**'What?' **_**A moment of panic washed through Arryn's body, the blood fleeing his skin leaving him cold and afraid. His uncle looked at him, smug but not cruel. Barely managing to calm himself, Arryn leaned forward on his hands, looking at his Uncle. "I'd say the same of you, dear uncle. We seem to share a taste and my prowess has been compared to your own more then once." **

This seemed to shake his Uncle, who actually looked offended for a moment before letting out a soft chuckle. "I have more then a decade on you and they are comparing us... I think I might be losing my touch... are you fucking your Guard?"

"Are you fucking Loras?" Both smirked at each other and a rare sense of kinship developed between them. Freed of the exhausting niceties of court, the evils of family and the shames of society. "He is wonderful, Dagmir I mean. Very gifted with his hands, lots of stamina. I met him by accident, as seems to be in my nature. He was with a squire and both were afraid that I would expose them. A few lessons were all I really wanted. Men and Women, both are wonderful really. What I would have given to be born in Dorne."

"Same. It would be wonderful to be free of the need to hide all of the time...As much fun as this is, I have a meeting to get to... With Loras. I will speak with you another time, about the specifics, but it's early. You've only just go back. Enjoy yourself, trust me when you really start to work with the Small Council you will find little time to enjoy yourself or other people.

Sharing another smirk, Arryn watched his uncle leaving his room.

_'It seems that I might have at least one ally outside of Pycelle. That is some comfort... he is right though I need more discretion. It would not serve me if Tywin learns of my nocturnal activities. I shudder at the thought... now... I do believe it time to read that letter my grandfather sent me.' _Standing, Arryn pulled out the letter from underneath he velvet of his viola's caste. "Dagmir, until I say otherwise, cough if someone comes. I need some privacy for a bit and no, not for that. I have you for that."

Laughter echoed from his delicious guard, making him roll his eyes before he settled onto his bed, holding the letter where he could see it.

_Arryn_

_It pleases me that at least one of my descendants seems determined to honor the legacy of House Lannister. However, as I am sure you can understand, I will not trust you entirely yet. Blood or not, you need to earn your place in my confidence. To ensure that you can do this in any manner, I will be assigning you a position on the Small Council, Advisor in practice. Your duties, while limited, are not to be taken lightly. Listen well, absorb everything you think is relevant and everything that isn't. If you see a chance to make a positive change for our house, do so. If you are unsure, speak to Pycelle and he will contact me._

_I expect results and honesty._

_ I do not know the full depths of your Mother's or Brother's destructiveness. Speak to Pycelle on these matters and I will do what I can to advise you to bring them to toe the line. Do what you can to counter them without raising their ire, before and during your Brother's reign. I will be sending your mother a letter instructing her to the nature of your new status though not to how you obtained it. She does not need to know that you are working against her, however she has quite a few spies in the Capital and many who are loyal to her. She is a valuable pawn in this Game but dangerous if not controlled, as you have seen in regard to her actions on the Kingsroad._

_Continue to manifest that connection with House Stark, as you wisely stated we have no connections in the North and that needs to change. Having the Queen on your side is always helpful, especially when she has the ear of the Northern Houses. Do what you can to win over Lord Stark, the man is an honorable fool but he has the ear of the King and will be a great asset if you can win him over or at the very least ensure that he does not stand in your way. _

_Pycelle will instruct you on the current condition of the Realm and those on the Small Council, he has a wealth of information that will be vital if you are to act with any purpose. I have instructed him on what I wish for you to do, what I wish for you to learn. Not everything that can be conveyed in a single letter. _

_I will send another letter in a week after Pycelle gives report on your status and skills. _

_Do not disappointment me and burn this letter once you have read it. _

_Tywin Lannister. _

Shivering, Arryn shifted away from the letter. "How is it that I am all but hearing the Rains of Castemere just from a letter? What a cold man... still he has given me a lot to think of... I had never even considered that my Mother had spies... who else has Spies? Can I trust anyone? Should I?" Groaning, he buried his head in his lap. "Renly knows that I have been fucking around with men, but I know the same about him so that negates that little secret for his use... Pycelle is owned by his Grandfather is seems and My mother is deranged. I know little about Varys or Littlefinger… I need friends and not just those in high places. I was too shortsighted and it might kill me if I do not learn from it. Sansa and Arya are still useful and Lord Stark still seems to like me but they have no connections here. I need to learn how to play the game better before I piss off the wrong person... How does one make a spynetwork? This isn't something a person can learn from a book... but I guess you start small, so I would have to ensure that my secrets are kept … and Dagmir is often my guard and the only one that know personally so he would be the perfect person to start from... DAGMIR, Get in here."

Slowly, but with some efficiency, the guard appeared before him and in the three seconds it took for him to get to where Arryn was sitting the boy took into account all he knew of the man. Long and Lean with delicious red hair everywhere it mattered, the man was a forced to be reckoned with a sword and bow. Not equal to his true or presumed father, Dagmir was still a powerful fighter one of the reasons he was Arryn's personal guard every so often.

Not a member of the Goldcloaks, the man was a Hedgeknight who had impressed his father during a tournament a few years back and stuck around pulling occasional sentry duty. He held no powerful name, being born a commoner who was lucky enough to gain knighthood. He was wonderful in bed, a patient hands on sort of teacher who did not mind their three year age gap. Though they rarely spoke outside of the throes of passion and orders, there was a layer of respect that came from knowing a secret shared between the two of them. He knew, from those few conversations, that Dagmir was a smart man that knew to be quiet when it suited him. After all he had been well aware of Arryn's skills with a violin and his ravenous appetite for reading, facts that few others knew... still in truth the man was more a passing aquantice that he had slept with. However above all else, he knew the man was utterly unspoken for. No one held his loyalty yet, he was skill but not entirely remarkable or interesting to most... he was understated and that made him exactly what Arryn needed.

Almost immediately, one path became clear to gaining the man's loyalty. Something that all Hedgeknights desired... and feared.

"Your grace?" Rumbly and deep the man's voice was like pure honey to Arryn, a sound he craved but at the moment Arryn buried the feelings it usually invoked.

Sitting tall, he gestured the man closer, reaching out to stop him from shedding his armor. "Not now, Dagmir… later perhaps but not now. I have a few things to say to you and I need for you to answer me honestly and without hesitation. Do you understand?" The man nodded but did not speak, instead he turned serious and a little afraid. "As you are no doubt aware I am now on the Small council... and I have already begun to make enemies. It has come to my attention that I... need to create allies. Not just those in higher places but people of all skills and statuses. You and I have more then one shared secret, so you came to mind. So I ask you, will you be loyal to me... and me alone? Will you become my Sworn Shield? To protect me from those that would do me harm while I do my duty?"

There was a moment of silence before the man spoke. " Why would you want me? I don't even guard you at all times? What would I gain from this?" Not impertinent, but genuinely curious, the man looked at him with something akin to fear and hope.

"Your skilled, powerful and I know that you, like most Hedgeknights, are afraid of losing what little employment you have. My father could terminate your employment at any time despite your skill. Should you swear your loyalty to me, I will name you my Sworn Shield. You will be protected from losing your position and, should you serve me well, I will do what I can to grant you a Lordship."

Inside, Arryn was terrified. He did not want to reveal all of his secrets to the man, as it was he was taking a large risk in telling the man this much. To be honest if he hadn't had dirt on the man, namely his habit of bedding men, he would never even attempt this. Like how Arryn would have to earn Tywin's confidence, Dagmir would have to earn his confidence. He had a slight start, one that few others had, but still a long way to go.

Slowly but with some confidence, Dagmir nodded. " I would be honored to, Your Grace... will we continue to fuck?" Brash and crass, the man's words were enough to make Arryn laugh loudly. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Yes, you should, but we need to be discrete. My Uncle made it clear that he is aware of my past indiscretions just as I am with his. Others might not be so forgiving. We need more allies." He realized, with a start, looking at the man before him and realizing just how unbalanced his life had become. "You will be my guard but if you are busy destroying my body, others will notice your absence... I will speak to my Father about your appointment but you will do your best to find those few we can trust to work for me. Something like my own Kingsgaurd… that is your first task... but first, your oaths... do you know them? Admittedly I do not."

That same wonderful smirk crossed his occasional lover's face. "I do, Your grace."

* * *

**"Sworn Shield?" Robert looked at his second born son, squinting to see past the haze of drink and exhaustion. Arryn, scrawny and tired looking, stared at him with little expression. Damn near a clone of his grandfather, only more tired. "This one? Drogon, Devon... Davos... Dagmir, that's right. You got third in the Tournament on Joffrey's Nameday in Swordplay and fifth in Archery... yes, that it. Why this one? Your on the Small Council now thanks to the debt I owe your fucking grandfather I know you probably need a body guard like your brother... but why this one?" **

His son, much to his credit, did not seem at least the slightest bit bothered by Robert's inebriation or stare. With a poise that Robert knew he could never manage, Arryn spoke. "Of all of the gaurds I have had over the years, he is the only one to stand out. He is skilled, powerful and I know him. He has proven reliable to me in the past. Besides, I know how tired of the Lannisters you are, a sentiment I understand. My mother's family can be quite grating." With a slight sneer, his son turned and looked at the sniveling moron Lancel, who actually quivered at the much younger boy's look. "He has no connection to any of them, so in appointing him you owe nothing. He would be mine and mine alone. Something that, as a member of the Small Council, I need."

'_Huh, you speak nothing like your mother... and you are trying to get at least some power from her. I wish I could do that...' _ Without any shame, Robert knew that he barely knew his son even when compared to his other children. The boy had been terminally sick most of his life, enough so that Robert cast him aside from the Line of Succession. The boy hadn't even argued when he learned this, or even seemed all to effected by it. Like most he had been surprised and moved when the boy had performed at Winterfell, though Wine had something to do with that. " Very well, do as like. Dagmir do you swear to keep my son, Arryn Baratheon from harm, to obey his commands, to keep his secrets, to counsel him when requested and to keep silent when not, to defend his name and honor?" He didn't care that his words were rushed or slurred or that this appointment would piss off Cersei. He just wanted it over with so he could get back to his wine.

Dagmir nodded, head bowed as he kneeled. "I do, your grace."

"Then by order of the king, take your place as the Sword Shield of Arryn Baratheon now and forever... or until he releases you from service."

The Hedgeknight nodded. "As you will it, your Grace." When he rose, there was a note of happiness and loyalty that Robert knew all too well. It was clear to him that the man cared for his son, perhaps fucked him much as Loras had Renly. He didn't care either way, however..

_'Little Bastard has more loyalty in one person then I have in this Kingdom, bar Ned...' _He ignored the feeling of jealousy rise within him, satisfying it with a look towards his son. "You have to be the one to tell your mother."

Finally some emotion broke on his son's face, a look of pure annoyance and disgust that sent Robert laughing long after his son left his quarters.

**'_What an embaressment. We have been in Kingslanding less then a day and he is already piss drunk...still, it made it easier to get him to obey my simple request.' _Turning he looked at Dagmir, who was carrying himself with more swagger then normal. He seemed almost drunk on the power of his status, which wasn't as potent as the Kingsgaurd but did give him something substantial to hold onto when it came to most guards. Even the Goldcloaks could not interfere with any orders he was given, so long as it did not endanger another royal. '_I hope he doesn't get a big head about this...and I hope he understands the need for secrecy.'_**

His Newly Sword Shield, after a few minutes of following him in silence, turned to him. "Where are we going, your Grace?"

"To speak to GrandMaester Pycelle. I have a few questions for him. When I do, Guard the door." In a much quieter voice, he spoke to the man. "Cough if anyone comes near."

The man actually nodded, seemingly understanding the need for discretion. "As you wish, Your Grace."

'_Good, hopefully he will prove to be a wise investment. I do not know how many poor investments I can afford. All I really have right now is my family name and even then I barely have that... I need to gain more allies if I am to make any powerful changes. I cannot afford to be weak forever, leaning on title and name. My Grandfather seems to be only interested in the family name, my mother in Joffrey, Joffrey in the suffering of others and Robert in Drink and Whores. It seems that I alone will be looking out for the realm... a pity really. I need to manage my family name though since it is what I have... How can I make it more mine then theirs? So many questions, so many things to do and so little time...' _

By the time he reached the Maester's quarters, a slight headache burned against his temples, the stress of his lofty goals too great for his body.

After knocking and letting himself in, he was greeted by the sight of the Ancient Maester… and his lovely mother. The First looked at him with simple shock and a little fear, the other with anger and confusion.

"Hello Maester, Mother... I see your both here... shall we begin?"

**Dagmir couldn't help the smile that etched it's way on his face. Finally he was secured into a position that ensured that he would get to eat. Far too many Hedgeknights ended up little more then beggers, having no food or a even a roof. That he had a Lord that wanted him for his skills, on the battlefield and bedroom, was more then he had hoped. **

'_I wonder what changed? Arryn never cared about discretion or governing. Before they left he was all but a hermit, hiding even his progress and recovery just to be alone...I think I should ask him, but will he tell me or will he become a cunt like the majority of the people here?' _

Deciding it would be best to think about it another time, Dagmir return to reality and waited for his Lord, knowing that all he could do for the moment was wait and obey. He had just given him everything, the least he could do was obey.

* * *

**Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews. **

**This was hard and fun to write. A little bit of filler but it was also in writing this that I realized how vulnerable he was, how isolated... I wanted him to realize just how little he has and how he needs to expand his reach in more then just making friends. How his indescretions didn't matter to him in the past due to his illness and lack of power, now are hindering him due to his new goals... he is finally realizing just how much is needed to have power in this world and how much could really hinder or kill him. This and the last chapter were the same day and this is the conclusion, so to speak, of the first arc in the story if you will. **

**It is hard for me to write him having connections before hand, I always make a character starting with nothing... I wanted to isolate that in it's own chapter so I can do this well. I also wanted to show that he does have some connections that have been hindered, a past that we are going to slowly see. Consequences of a past filled with isolation...**

**He knows Renly and Tyrion and several others but I rarely show just what his relationship with them are and how they will affect him. This was sort of a test to see if I could forge realistic connections... make it seem like he has a past that has actually affected him and others. Dagmir is a good example of that... they are connected enough to matter now that he is present but not enough to have been in his thoughts before... **

**This is hard for me and I really would appreciate feedback as to my progress on this. **

**We will be seeing a lot of Dagmir, including POVs I think. **

**Love, your Ninja Overlord, **

**Mika. **


	7. Begining of the Tourny

**The Second Small Council Meeting always bugged me... like if you know there are going to be a lot more people who not increase security? Janos Slynt was a monster but he made a good point. **

**Arryn is Bisexual, they don't use that word in the series but I have made that clear since the first chapter where he outright says that he has slept with men and women. He prefers men generally though. **

* * *

**"It's the Hand's Tournament that is causing all this trouble my Lord. " **

Arryn stared down at the slightly trembling Janos Slynt, an all too familiar headache brewing as he remembered his meeting with Pycelle just a few days before. Slynt, like a shocking number of people, belonged to his mother due to a large bevy of bribes that had helped the man land the title of Commander of the City Watch. A lofty position, one that gave great power to anyone who wielded it, especially for a commoner like Janos.

Tall and slightly balding with thin white hair, Janos was by no means impressive. From what little he knew of that man, mainly what his Mother ( Thanks to the orders of his grandfather) and Pycelle had informed him, he was a decent fighter by not innately talented. A trait Cersei attributed to his lowborn status. Arryn believed it was because the man was a rarely gifted sycophant and asslicker who managed to stick his balding head so far up Cersei's cunt that he was able to get a position he was not suited for. He had little proof of this but knew his mother well enough to know that she enjoyed people who licked her ass more then people of actual skill.

Jaime being a rare combination of both skilled fighter and asslicker for his mother.

'_I really need to be careful to not allow my dislike of others to cloud my judgement. I have no actual knowledge on this man outside of what Mother and Pycelle told me and I do not trust either of them as of yet... I need to be better.' _

The squeak of Lord Stark's chair brought Arryn from his own mind. "The King's Tournament, I assure you, the Hand wants no part in it."

Unperturbed, the balding man spoke up. " Call it what you will Lord Stark, Sir. The City is packed with people and more are flooding in everyday. Last night we had a tavern riot, brothel fire, three stabbings and a drunk horse race down the Street of Sisters."

It took everything for the Advisor in Practice to not chuckle at those words.

"Dreadful." Unlike Arryn, Varys seemed almost bored of this, something that the Prince did not understand.

Naturally his Uncle had to speak up. "If you can't keep the King's Peace, then perhaps the City Watch should be commanded by someone who can." Snarky and bored, his naturally flippant Uncle proved his ignorance.

"Commander... how many men do you have at your disposal?" Everyone turned to him, unsurprising since he had been all but silent through the meeting.

Janos took a second to blink at him before answering, though it was clear he was unsure of himself. "Two thousand your.. Grace?"

"Two thousand people is usually enough to counter the issues born of our large populace, is it not?" The man nodded, still unsure. An idea began to form in the Prince's mind and slowly he began to put it into motion hoping he was right. "Then it makes sense that the swelling of people has undone what balance was maintained. It is obvious that we should have increased your numbers or at the least given you some sort of assistance. This is already proving to be the largest Tournament since my Father became King... In this we have failed you."

The man bowed. "I am honored by your words, your Grace. You are precisely right. There are too many people to monitor with our current numbers. We simply do not have enough eyes or hands."

In that instant, Arryn saw an opening to gain more trust from Lord Stark and impress even more onto the Council that he was competent."Lord Stark, if I may... I do believe I have a suggestion?" The Man nodded towards him, clearly curious. "Uncle, how many Squires exist in Kingslanding, not counting those that are assisting their Knights in the Tournament?"

"What does that have to do with anything, Arryn?" Annoyed and bored, the man all but dismissed him.

Something Arryn loathed, and so he took great pleasure in slamming his point into his audience. " Because Squires, most of them, are Knights in all but name. They have the same training, skills and understanding of the laws. Their martial skills are not being used in a war at the moment, so why not have them work for the City Watch during the Tournament? It would give them experience, a public face and a chance to prove their capabilities, honor and intelligence. We wouldn't have to train new people and the crowds would be easily contained, well relatively speaking of course."

There was a pause before Lord Stark smiled at him. " A wise thought and one I would never have considered. Knights are a rarity in the North." Turning to Renly, he spoke to the now put off man. "How many squires do we have in the city?"

Put on the spot, his Uncle rolled his eyes a little. "Somewhere around three hundred, two hundred and fifty or so if you take away those that are working with their masters in the Tournament."

_'He should be thrilled. I just made his job a lot easier, after all he is the one that has to deal with the influx of prisoners if the peace is not kept.' _Leaning forth, words flew off of his tongue like sweet honey. "I would assume there are a similar number of pages then? Roughly at least? They would make wonderful messengers for the City Watch. Not those under say, twelve? That should bring the Watch's numbers to nearly twenty five hundred, which I do believe would be more then enough to monitor the city. Lord Baelish can of course continue to pay for this... and Uncle Renly, I know your cells are probably filled right?" His uncle, finally seeing the point, actually nodded. " Then why not offer a different course of punishment for those who committed lesser crimes. In return for a reduced sentence or removal of once, they can assist with the preparations of the Tournament. Setting up tents, clearing the fields, assisting with deliveries... those with martial skills may even be of assistance in the City Watch on one or another tasks."

He relished in the shock, proud and considering looks of those around him...

"Wisdom from the Mouth of Babes. A pity we so rarely listen to them." Pycelle, being the professional ass licker he was, spoke in that doddering foolishly false way so typical. "That would bring the number of the City Watch to a drastically higher number and would reduce the strain on those responsible for setting up the tournament. I do believe this should be sufficient enough to lessen the strain Commander Slynt."

"Yes, Grand Maester. It would be a great boon."

Ned nodded. "Then you shall have it."

"Thank you, Lord Hand sir. They will be put to good use." With a bow, the sycophant marched away taking with him the slight reprieve of conversation and something to do, leaving the Council.

The Hand, Lord Stark, sat back with a look of exhaustion. " The sooner this is over the better."

"The Realm prospers from such events my Lord." They all turned towards Varys, who spoke softly with his typical dramatic near whisper. " They give the great a chance at glory and the lowly a respite from their wows."

"And they fill the pockets of countless people with coin, increasing the taxes we need to fulfil our duties to the realm." Satisfied, Arryn took a sip of the still warm tea in front of him. "And I must say it is a wonderful way to learn how to assist in governing. I do believe I have a talent for it... but that aside, I do have something to bring up to the council. What are we to do about my Uncle Stannis' all but fleeing the city? We have no armada present, and I have seen a considerably decline in the number of merchant ships present in the bay. I can only imagine what liberties the Ironborn are inflicting on those no longer protected by the intimidation Stannis inflicted upon the world. I was wondering, what is being done to encourage my uncle to return, thus returning our armada?"

Silence and sheepishness, then Renly all but snorted out. "Nothing can get my brother to return when he is one of his moods. He left out of jealousy of Lord Stark's appointment as Hand of the King. It will take months for him to get over himself enough to return. I assure you there is little we can actually do."

"Are we at least making an effort to get him to return?"

Renly just scoffed but Varys offered another view. "As much as it pains to me to admit, Lord Renly's view of Stannis is quite astute. Lord Stannis was rather displeased that your father did not appoint him as Hand of the King and it was after a large argument about Lord Stark's appointment that he fled. I doubt that Lord Stannis would even read a letter sent to him. He is entertaining a women from Essos, a Red Priestess of the Lord of Light."

"Wonderful, now we are more vulnerable then we have been in decades, our ships are not being protected all because my uncle is having a tantrum... and instead of fulfilling his duties he is entertaining a cult famous for it's human sacrifices." Rubbing his temples, the young boy made a mental note. '_I have to get in contact with my dear uncle. There is no way we can allow this to continue. How can my father tolerate this? Or does he even know, I am not sure he is sober enough to have realized that Stannis' absence has left us vulnerable to a bevy of assaults or raids. How this Realm has managed to stay standing is far beyond me. Is everyone around me incompetent." _

Thankfully, Lord Stark decided that he was done listening. "If that is all my Lords." They all stood at that moment, knowing they were dismissed.

Arryn sat back, taking in each of the idiots as they left the room. His Mother and Pycelle's words from three days past clear in his mind as he focused on Varys.

_"The Eunuch is not to be trusted. Master of Whispers, bah, the man is a Spider. No one knows what he seeks, what his goals are. I would never trust him, your Grace." Pycelle had spoken first, a sneer clear on his whiskered face. _

_Cersei only nodded, looking hurt and angry still._

_"Still, you should never underestimate him. He has people in every country, every House, every family. His spies make up a majority of people of those in and around the Court."_

Arryn held no such reservations towards the Eunuch, he knew that most ( Pycelle included) saw the man a monster only for a deformity he had no choice in. It felt foolish to hold such a thing against a man who had served so loyally over the decades. He seemed to be an asslicker in each meeting, but there was a note of drama not unlike a Mummer's act. _'I must see what I can do to learn the man's true loyalty and desires. An unknown is not what we need and with him on my side I would know more then Pycelle can offer.'_

Next, his eyes turned towards his Uncle, a growing irritation burned it's way like stomach acid burning in his throat. _'He takes everything without seriousness, utterly bored at each council meeting. Even now, despite my perfectly valid concern about Stannis stealing our fleet, he brushed aside the worries as if they were nothing. How he has managed to maintain a position on the Council is beyond me.' _

This was nearly echoed by his Mother and Pycelle. "_Your father found fit to place his brother in a position of power despite Renly being terrible at his position. Crime is at an all time high, few actually are punished for their crimes and those that are mostly those who offended the wrong Lord. Mostly your uncle. From what I have been told, he has sent more then five men to the wall for not giving in to his sexual favors."_

_His Mother laughed. "Only five, I heard it was a great deal more." She laughed cruelly, a mocking sound that made him wish to hide his own interests a thousand times more then he already had. "He does have a handful of spies but not many. He is wonderful at parties and favors but does not make lasting connections enough for reliable spies and whispers.'_

Then there was Peter Baelish and this time it was his mother who spoke first.

"_Trust him as far as you can throw him, and even then be careful. Still, he can be easily bought. Like most lowborn, he hasn't much power beyond his Whorehouses and spynetwork. Most of Robert's whores belong to him and so does your father.' _

Oddly that was it, leaving him with very little else to go on. _'No mention of motives, ideologies or even where his reach lies... so helpful mother dearest.' _With a sigh, he stood from his seat and made his way out of the Small Council room. Annoyed and determined. '_Still that was more then I had before... I suppose I would be best speaking to Sansa now, it has been a few days since I have seen her... or Myrcella… sigh, so little time and so much to do.' _

* * *

**The rapping of knuckles on the door nearly made Sansa jump, as it was her Septa did in fact jump, looking with a scowl at the door. "Who could be at the door?" Huffing, she hurried towards the door, opening it. "Yes, oh your Grace." **

Immediately, Sansa stood and bowed. "Prince Joffrey." Her voice trembled as excitement filled her. '_Finally, a chance to get him to like me once more.' _

"Not exactly, Sansa." Soft and amused, the sound of Prince Arryn's voice drew her from her fantasy before it could truly begin, making her look upwards to see the second prince and his younger sister, both smiling at him. "I am sorry I have not seen you in days, I have been so busy working on the small council and continuing my training that I have given little time for anything else. Please, forgive me." His easy smile lifted her spirits, despite the disappointment that his brother was not there.

"It is alright, your Grace." Standing from her low curtsey, she strode towards him, eager and excited to be near royalty. "Princess Myrcella."

The younger girl smiled at her, all but charging into the room. "I've missed you, Sansa!" The sweet princess embraced Sansa for a moment, just as Arryn kissed her cheek softly. "Do you want to go with us to Tourney?"

A little stirred, Sansa looked up at the Prince, who nodded. " We would be honored if you would attend with us. You and Arya... wherever she is..."

A nasty huff came out of Sansa's throat. " She's with her dancing teacher, always coming back scabbed up and bruised. She's so clumsy."

"Dancing... huh, I never thought your father would..." A happy smile came to the prince's handsome face. "She is learning swordplay, Sansa. The Waterdance of Braavos. I promised her I would speak to your father on this but it seems that he has already taken measures to ensure that she learns. I admit, I didn't expect it. I am happy for her, I never understood why women are not allowed to learn of martial matters, especially when many are more suited to it then their male counterparts."

Unable to hide her disgust, Sansa turned away with her nose held high. "Ladies are not supposed to be warriors, we are supposed to raise our husbands children and gossip and maintain our houses."

She all but felt her Septa nodded, clicking her tongue in agreement.

Arryn didn't look pleased, and neither did Myrcella. The Princess stood away from Sansa for a moment, looking at her with something that made Sansa's stomach hurt, it resembled Joffrey's disdain so perfectly. "Your from the North... just like House of Morment of Bear island. Their are legends about the female warriors of Bear Island. Even my father respects them and their power. I am surprised that you are so against women becoming warriors when you are surrounded by examples to the contrary." With her nose high, Myrcella turned away from Sansa. "We have lemon cakes waiting for us at the Tourney, if you want some Sansa, Septa Mordane."

**Arryn enjoyed his sister's attitude, her irritation towards Sansa, sharing in it himself. Perhaps it was his mother's occasional drunken rants on how Jaime was treated better then she was by Tywin, or maybe it was reading about Dorne and the Summer Isles... Lands that celebrated women, encouraged them to be better, be more then broodmares... but the idea of reducing women to nothing but broodmares was repulsive. As far as he was concerned, treating women so pointlessly different then men made little sense. Especially when many women were more capable then their male counterparts, his sister and Joffrey being a prime example. **

As they left the room, he nodded to Dagmir, who placed a hand on his sword and bowed low to Lady Stark. The handsome man, along side the guard Lord Stark had set for Sansa, stood in defense of them as they walked towards the Tournament.

'_Mother will not like it, but perhaps Myrcella should marry in Dorne… and so should Arya. They would do well there I think, in a land that will encourage them to rise not bend to their husbands. It would certainly keep them safe from Mother's influence, and would create closer ties to Dorne, which I know is lacking especially after what My Grandfather allowed to be done to Rhaegars children.' _Giving his sister a look, he tried to imagine her bowing to anyone... he almost laughed loudly, even as they traversed the halls, making their way to the Tournament which was to start in an hour. '_I cannot imagine it. Though she is smarter then mother, she is just as stubborn and just as willful. I think it's my bad influence, oh well... it would be a great idea, I think, to have her learn some basic forms of combat. With Mother and Joffrey so eager to make new enemies it really is a matter of time until there is some kind of attack.'_

Absently, he listened to his sister and Sansa finally start talking again, sharing a conversation on local gossip. Nothing of major nature, but enough to keep Sansa occupied and that was all he needed. While he listened, he considered just how he would manage to get his sister the training that may one day save her life.

_'I may also have to teach her something on ruling. In Dorne or not, I will not allow her to become just a broodmare. She deserves so much more then that.' _

* * *

**The swell of the crowd disgusted Cersei, the stench of peasants and sweat and wine left her almost gasping for relief though it did not show on her face. That was, until her Oaf of a husband stood up and all but scream. " Enough with the pomp, Start the damn tournament before I piss myself." It was impossible to hide her hatefilled sneer. Still, despite what she wanted, she stayed where she was. She had her own mission to fulfil... **

Her eyes turned to her son who had escorted his sister, Arya and Sansa, both of the Northern girls on either arm, both looking positivity radiant in their youth and interest. Her son's newly Sworn Shield, Dagmir, stood just behind with a patient energy. The girls were in a clearly rampant conversation, including her daughter, looking intensely invested and intrigued with whatever they spoke about, only starting to hush when the Mountain rode onto the field, his powerful body filling Cersei with a sense of delicious danger.

That he was facing Ser Hugh, a pride filled weak minded moron who knew more then she liked, only added to the sensation of danger present. She knew, thanks to Petyr Baelish, that this was to be Ser Hugh's first and last Tournament.

She didn't bother to pay attention, there was little need. She had seen men die before and she was not interested in this, for she had a mission of her own.

Watching her son, who had somehow managed to gain the support of his grandfather under her nose. She watched him closely, angry and proud in equal measure as they sounds of the jousting echoing around her, almost nonexistent as the memories of her meeting three days before came to the forefront of her mind.

_"Hello Mother, Maester… I see your both here...Shall we begin?" _

_Almost cocky, her son's words stirred anger in her heart. "You turned against me, why?" Tears burned at her eyes, unable to hide her frustration at the merest notion that one of her children so easily and quickly turned against her. Not only gaining power that she had craved her entire life, but the confidence of her father something she had never managed to do. _

_"Your Majesty, perhaps it is best not to-" _

_"I never turned against you mother, I simply realized that if we are survive I am going to need my grandfather to keep you in line." Cold and unfeeling, a near perfect mimic of his grandfather's voice, Arryn looked at her with intensity that left her feeling bare and betrayed. "A sad fact, one I did not once want to believe but you have left me with little choice. Your actions on the Kingsroad was beyond anything I could have imagined that you were capable of." _

_Anger burned at her throat, like bile. "I did what I had to protect your brother!" _

_"You did what you had to protect your ego and his. You know as well I that he was in the wrong, you are teaching him to become unable to take responsibility for his actions like Robert only with the madness of the Mad King. You burned a bridge with the Hand of the King and Lord of the North as well as with his daughters, who will have the ears of the entire North and whomever they marry. I never intended to be more then an architect, a footnote in history, but you forced my hand mother. If you will not make Joffrey a worthy king, if you decide to continue being a hinderance the our House and our Realm... the I will do what is necessary to protect us all. If that means that I must put you in your place, work with my murderous grandfather... then so be it." _

_Silence, the sound of betrayal, filled the Maesters chamber. _

_Then then weak willed grey rat spoke up. "Perhaps it would be best if we moved on, Lord Tywin demands that we educate your son in the Council and the condition of the realm. If Prince Joffrey is to be king, then having another voice in his best interest would be a tremendous advantage." _

_His words stirred her even if she wished to put his head onto a spike. "Fine." She ground out, unable to hide her anger but unwilling to disobey her father. "Where should we start." _

_"How about... who is on your payroll, Mother? Who are your spies, who's ears do you have? On and off the Council, of course. Who can I trust to ensure the safety of House Lannister." _

_Immediately she knew that if she wished to maintain any power or control, she had to withhold information... and so she gave only the surface of those she owned. "Janos Slynt, Commander of the Gold Cloaks... though I share him with Petyr Baelish. A few hangers off in court, mainly the Lady's in waiting.' _

They had stayed for nearly an hour, discussing the various people owned and bought by Cersei, Petyr, Renly and Varys. Despite herself she could not help but be impressed by how quickly he seemed to understand the value of their words.

_'If only Joffrey could be like that...'_

A rush of loud gasps and screams alerted her to the death of Ser Hugh, drawing her eyes to the sight of his bleeding broken body. Smugness overtook her, and she knew that the secret of her children's true heritage was kept even more securely then ever before. All that was left was her, Jaime, Tyrion, Arryn and Myrcella.

She found great comfort in that.

* * *

**Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews.**

**It wasn't my favorite chapter but it is one I enjoyed writing as it show cases what happens when you have an eager and willing participate surrounded by idiots and greedy bastards in a Government. He is innovative because he still cares and has no major goals for power... **

**I am still struggling to show him gaining allies so I would appreciate suggestions on this... **

**Love, your Ninja Overlord, **

**Mika. **


	8. Tournys end, Summer begins to fall

**_I see Arryn as someone able to think outside of the box, with boundless curiosity and a natural inventivness. He sees that everyone lives in a pattern, repeating the same events on end without progress... I see him as the kind of person who would or could bring great change simply because he doesn't take the world at face value... he asks questions about the world he is in. _**

**_I think this is a pivitol quality and one so lacking in so many other charecters, the Starks more then most... _**

**_I think this is a fantastic chapter and one that I am so proud of. I found a path to go down that none have repeated but makes so much sense... I love it._**

**_Also, a warning: This episode was really intense and a lot happened so It will be a few chapters long._**

* * *

The sight of his father, bare chest harassing Lancel to assist with his armor left a sour taste in Arryn's mouth, not unlike that of horehound candies. A wave of emotion hit, something akin to irritation and hate and disgust. Still, despite the sight of his adopted father's disgusting display, the prince walked into the tent. His plans, the conversation he had prepared for his father would have to wait. The idea that the Whoremonger would joust was not one he could allow to continue, not if he wanted his father to perish and leave them all with Joffrey and Cersei at the helm.

" Can't you do anything?" Robert bellowed loudly, his voice all but slamming into the shivering Lancel.

His poor cousin looked ready to faint, his already fair skin was practically translucent, his eyes wide. It was a miserable sight, one all too common to anyone who spent any time around Robert and his squire. Arryn hated it, loathed how cruel his monstrous father was to someone who truly did little to deserve it. Lancel was not always the smartest of men but he was mostly harmless and the little wrong he did had more to do with his constant fear of Robert's abuse then any actual deficiencies. He deserved none of the abuse or cruelty thrown upon him...

"Lancel, there is no way my father will fit into his armor." He enjoyed the sight of his father's genuinely confused face and Lancel's utter relief. "Father, you've gained at least three stone in the last year alone. Your armor is the same you had last year and it barely fit. It won't matter how skilled Lancel is or isn't, you simply will not fit." Stepping in more fully, the stench of wine all but attacked him, wafting from his father's rank breathe. "More over, your rather inebriated which would make you lucky to be able to ride a horse without falling on your arse let alone joust... and no one out there will actually be willing to go full force against you. Your the King, they'd hold back and I know that is not something you want." His father's face reddened, anger and shame in his eyes but before he could unleash anything, Arryn turned to his cousin. "Lancel, be a dear and grab some warm bone broth and bread for my father. Feel free to grab yourself something before you return."

His cousin, desperate to escape Robert's wrath, all but ran from the room. It was honestly a miracle that he hadn't shit himself...

"BOY!" His father's bellow actually shook the tent, his ugly face red and wobbly beneath his fierce beard. "Get your ass-"

"Father enough." He kept his voice low, his eyes firm against his father's wrathful gaze. He needed him to be calm, happy. Tourneys were a rare opportunities, his father was less hateful during them, less consumed by his own misery. Even Joffrey knew to take advantage of these days, their mother did it almost constantly. "He is terrified of you as it is, there is no need to be cruel. Why do you think he is so poor at his job? He is far smarter then you realize, terror stops him from showing it. If you want a competent squire then the least you can do is be decent to the boy. More importantly, the last thing you need is more enemies, the boy is in perfect position to hurt you and with how awful you are to him he has more then enough reason to do it. I would in his place and so would most." He ignored the growl escaping his father, though his heart skipped more then a few beats at the sound. "I know you want to fight father but no one will fight you at full force. Your the king they would be too afraid to actually hurt you, fearing retribution from the court or dishonor on their families if they managed to kill or maim you. Your no fool, look in yourself and tell me I am wrong?"

The arrogant bastard's growl tapered out, something pained and wistful filled his eyes before disgust washed over them. "You sound like your grandfather, you know that?" The man poured himself a drink, sitting down with a long sigh before draining the drink.

"I imagine I sound more like Jon Arryn, I know for certain that he asked you to be kinder to Lancel. Regardless it matters little, I am right and you know it." He sat next to his father, keeping his back straight and trying to not to breath in the disgusting air that wafted so heavily around Robert. However, it was in this attempt to stop breathing that a very simple question came to mind, one that he was ashamed never came to him. " Father... why do you not train?" The man turned to him, a little thrown but drunk enough to not care. "I know you love fighting more then anything, bar hunting perhaps or whoring... but if you train, spar with others on a regular basis, then you would become stronger, look better and honestly I think you would be happier. You may not be fighting a war but you could train those in Kingslanding. It would be some sort of fight, not what you are looking for I know but more then nothing."

His father smacked his lips, a strange dry sound, looking wearily around his tent. "Not a half bad idea, but I don't have time for it. Too much to do."

"You spend most of your days with women or drink, simply stop doing one or the other or... _Your afraid_" The words echoed in his head though he was smart enough not to speak them, but as he looked at his father he realized he was right. His eyes were wide, there was a tiny tremor to his voice. The man was not the image of fear but it was clear that fear did in fact grip him. "It doesn't matter, just give it some thought. I didn't come here to chastise you but to ask about my potential marriage opportunities."

His father actually rolled his eyes, groaning with childish impudence. "Not right now boy, I'd rather not have my evening ruined by such nonsense. Bad enough that I can't taste another's blood." Naturally, another swig of wine made it's way down his father's massive gullet.

"I'll be quick then. Shireen or a Frey. I'd suggest Margery Tyrell but I doubt they would risk marriage to someone so ill. Brienne of Tarth is a distant option, I wouldn't mind her appearance or skills in combat. The Martells would also be a good option, their heir is a women and I am a prince. That would solidify our connection at least somewhat."

"He makes a firm point Robert." Both royals turned to the entrance of the tent, where mildly amused Ned Stark was standing. Garbed in a soft grey shirt, outlined with leather, decorated with a wolves etched onto the shoulders. It was heartening for Arryn, to see that the Lord Stark had taken to wearing the garbs he had ordered to be crafted for him. It was clear that he man was considerably cooler now that he wasn't wearing the clothes he came to Kingslanding with. "I'm glad to see someone talked you out of jousting, I was about to attempt that myself."

Robert sneered at his old friend, turning away to take another swig of wine. "I thought being King meant that I could do whatever I want."

'_Of course you do, you were a child and never bothered to see your responsibility as King. Moron.' _Keeping those lovely thoughts close to his mind, he turned to Lord Stark. "I appreciate that you see my points. If it pleases you, I have a suggestion for one of your children. Arya specifically." The man raised a brow, hesitant but curious. Better then he would have expected. "Send her to Dorne, to live with the Martells. I do believe they have a son that she could one day marry. Women are treated well in Dorne, not expected to act submissive or live solely to be broodmares. Many of their women are trained warriors, I have seen many that could easily defeat my Uncle Jaime. I think if she is expected to marry, that may be the best place for her. It may be the only place for her, bar maybe the Mormants of the North but that would be beneath her and as far as I am aware they have no sons she could marry."

**The boy's words were like cascades of mortar for Eddard, the knowledge of Arya marrying anyone, let alone someone so far across the world... it was not a pleasant thought, despite his earlier conversation with her. It shook him, inside and out, to bear the thought but the wisdom was clear. He couldn't deny it. "I will consider it."  
**

"Now, since we don't have too much time before the next joust, of those you heard me speak of, who do you think would be my best match?" Eye bright, the boy looked the pinnacle of innocence.

"I'm not too sure of how you would do in Dorne but I can see you doing well there. After what they endured during the war, I can see them embracing a match with the crown. Walder Frey would jump at the opportunity to marry one of his children to the crown, but he is beneath you, a mere vassal house no matter how powerful they have become. As for Shireen... I am not sure, but with her health and yours I do not see your children surviving the cradle."

"A Tossup between Frey and Martell it is then. Should I send a raven to both, Father?"

Robert actually looked disgusted but there was something that only a friend like Eddard could have noticed beneath the surface. It was clear that something was bothered Robert, something that shook him, still the King managed to grunt out. "Pycelle says your doing well on the Council...I want you to stay in Kingslanding, your brother will need you. Send a letter to Walder, have him send a few of his older Daughters and have your pick of them. Now, be off with you."

"Fantastic. I'll leave you two alone. Myrcella and Sansa are waiting for me to return." With a satisfied smile, he bowed to them both before leaving Eddard with a solemn looking Robert.

He waited for the prince to move far enough away from the tent before approaching his friend. "Your shaken, what's happened?"

"I received a letter from Tywin. He has requested that my son stay in Kingslanding, he is considering naming his as his heir." He shook, his fear not making sense to Ned.

"The boy is smart, kinder the most and seems to have a rare talent for ruling. He'd make a wonderful lord, I can see why his Grandfather would want him to be heir... why would this bother you so much?"

Robert's eyes were cold, solemn and for once free of the sway of wine. "The boy scares me. He isn't even fifteen and he has garnered the respect of Tywin of all people, his mother is actually afraid of him even if she tries to hide it. Hell, he is the only person that can get Joffrey to listen without hitting the little shit. I am not a politician Ned, I have no skill in ruling, I won't even pretend otherwise... but I am not blind. I can see how he has made a grasp for your daughters, both care for him and listen to him, and now your wearing what he had sewn. Even Pycelle is singing his praises.

He has no training, no power beyond his name and yet he has already started to make a grasp and has managed to gain support... " Robert shook his head. " At Winterfell he managed to get Cat out of your boy's room, I saw in her eyes how much she adores him. I overheard her speaking to your Son Robb, she was talking to him about marrying Arya to him or at the least was hoping you'd foster him. He doesn't know any of that, or that I am paying attention but I am." Robert snorted, going quite for a moment.

In that moment, Ned contemplated his words. '_I did not know that Caitlyn was contemplating such... she hates the boy now, thinks he is to blame for Bran's fall or had some part of it...'_ His wife word's haunted him, his dismissal of her belief that Arryn had pushed Bran.

_"He came to me Ned, I thought it was to comfort me... he brought the younger Prince and Princess, but when I mentioned how surefooted Bran was, how impossible his fall seemed to me... the boy changed. I barely saw it but I did, I swear it. He all but fled. After the cutthroat came to kill Bran, I searched through the tower where Bran fell... the dust had been brushed away, any signs of footprints wiped away. I found a long hair... only the Queen, Myrcella and Arryn have hair that long, that shade of gold. Now... now I know the truth. He went to hide a crime, whatever it was that Bran saw... be it his mother's crime or his own... I know it, in my bones I know it..." _

Ned did not want to believe it, it sounded impossible, but he could not deny his wife's logic, the truth to her words. With what Robert was now telling him...

Robert sighed loudly and Ned turned back to him, in time to hear his speech continue. "Tywin burned down an entire house because it turned on him, you and I know that he alone ruled during his time as Hand of the King and so often when I look at my son all I can see is Tywin... Joffrey is a shit, spoiled and cruel, but duller then dirt. His stupidity can be managed by others... when I looked at my son... when I look at Arryn I know that would be a far greater threat then the Mad King. That is why I took him from the line of succession. When I look at him, I see Madness, he just hides it a lot better..."

The words shook Ned, he did not want to believe it still but the evidence was pilling up. "I see Jon Arryn when I look at Arryn, I see Joanna Lannister... I see my sister. Willful, kind and able to see paths were others cannot. I do no see madness in him... tell me, Robert, where is that madness you see?" He was desperate now, all but pleading that the one ally he seemed to find in Kingslanding was true and honorable as he seemed.

Robert sighed again and put down his goblet, standing and slowly buttoning his shirt with a pause that seemed nothing like his normal self. It was quiet, subdued and weak. For a long moment, long enough for the sounds of the Tourney starting against to echo in their tent.

"A few years ago, Joffrey skinned a pregnant cat and presented me with the kittens from within it. I was horrified, I hit the boy hard enough to knock teeth out... his mother swore that she would kill me in her bed. I knew it to be true so I never touched him again. His brother was in the room, he was in a rare moment of good health... he looked at me Ned, just looked at me and I swear I saw my death in his eyes. He wasn't shaking, he wasn't even angry... at five years of age he stood there with nothing but coldness and the eyes of a monsters. Not one of rage and violence like the Mad King... but a quiet contemplation... " When he looked up, Ned felt his own fear, fearing for the Second Born Prince in a way he only had ever feared for his sister in the past. "He is kind, the servants adore him... I doubt the boy realizes it but they do love him. His Sworn Shield cares for him, but again I doubt my son can see it. I was crying when he played for us at Winterfell, not because I was moved but because when I looked at my son, I saw Rheagar Targaryen. When I looked at him, illness and all, I saw a quiet evil, the kind that creeps and weaves around you until it can strangle you in your bed. No one the wiser. When I look at my son, I see the same man I looked up to once. The man I genuinely cared for, the one I wanted to be my King one day before he snapped and stole my bride, the love I would have sold my soul for...

When I see my son, I see the man who destroyed my life... the kind of evil that masks itself in love and warmth, winning the hearts of the world... a parasite that makes you love it before it drains you of all you are. I've felt it for years but it was only today, hearing him speak to us both... that I realized it. If Joffrey is the Mad King, then Arryn is Rhaegar. May all of the Gods help us the moment his Madness can no longer masked."

Haunted, Ned asked the only thing he could. " Have you spoken to anyone, Jon Arryn?"

"No... I doubt he would have seen it, believed it. My son seemed content to hide in his room, reading his books and staying unseen. I almost forgot what he was... something in the North shook him loose. I do no know what... "

* * *

**Myrcella had quickly decided that she did not like Sansa Stark, the girl was vapid and empty, treating the servants with disrespect and her sister with disdain. She was naïve and would add up to nothing if she did not grow up, a puppet queen of her Mother's. A Toy for Joffrey... it hurt her heart to think of that sort of path. Still, despite this dislike, the Princess put on a kind excited smile and turned to her soon to be Good Sister. **

"Exciting, isn't it." She kept a false level of excitement in her tone, knowing the naïve Sansa would never see beyond it.

The Northern girl turned, smiling beautifully in a way that made her blue eyes shine. " So much so! We have no Tourneys or even Knights up North. I wish we did." Her tone was flippant, as if unable to remember the death of poor Hugh less then an hour past, reminding her so much of Renly it was astonishing. "Do you think your brother would join? Prince Joffrey I mean?" She whispered that last part, turning to fluttering eyes sweetly to Joffrey, who was sitting a few seats above them.

Her brother didn't even return the look, turning away rudely... Sansa didn't even seem to notice.

Myrcella cleared her throat slightly, before shaking her head. "No, he has no training in the Martial talents. Well, he has some but he never continued bar the first few years. He can use a crossbow though... father was shamed when he killed a deer with it instead of his bow or spear or some such weapon. Arryn might be able to compete...but he has little taste for Tourney's, more Knights are hurt then promoted." She agreed with her brother, even if she didn't say it. "Tommen wants to fight one day, he trains hard but he isn't very good. It seems our father's power has skipped us."

Loras Tyrell, the pompous brat he was, interrupted their conversation by riding towards them, a rose in hand. He handed it to Sansa, the girl flustered and sweet and never noticing the slight glance to Renly who sat above them.

"Thank you, Ser Loras."

It took everything Myrcella had not to roll her eyes at the other girl, her desperation for her vapid dreams to come true. Everyone in court knew of the love between Renly and Loras, how the girl had yet to hear of it was beyond the Princess.

"A hundred gold dragons on the Mountain." The sound of Peter Baelish's voice sent shiver's down Myrcella's spine.

She knew what was next and turned to her Uncle. His eyes were smug, proud but not in the normal sense. It was more like he knew turned back to the field, eying Loras' beautiful horse for a moment before shifting the Mountain's Horse. The beast was restless, shifting beneath his master's body. _"Wait... Loras' horse... is female? This time of year... I know she didn't have a colt recently... ' _A wicked smile came to her face as she realized what had happened. Standing she calling out with more strength then she intended, ignoring the feeling of her Mother's eyes on her. "I'll take that wager, Lord Baelish."

Her Uncle looked a bit put out, Baelish conflicted, and her Mother bordered on furious.

Littlefinger's confusion turned to a smirk. "And what would you use that money for, Princess?"

She masked her disgust with a kind smile. "Oh, I have everything I need, but I know my dear brother Arryn wanted to start some public work projects for the common folk. Improving their living conditions and providing comfort for when this Long Summer ends. I think he would appreciate the donation."Her mother's eyes changed, the fury turning to irritation and pride in perfect harmony. It was on this note that Myrcella sat, turning a stunned Sansa. "Loras will win, I promise you that. The Mountain is all strength and power, he isn't skilled or smart. Plus..." She leaned in, whispering softly. "Loras' horse in heat, it's not actually cheating but I am sure that he's aware."

Sansa almost recoiled, looking disgusted. "Would he really do something so dishonest? There is no honor is deception."

"No but there is a lot of gold, my lady." The gruff voice of Dagmir, Arryn's sword shield spoke up. "I've taken part in this Tourney's, it's common place, deception like that. It's an open secret, but one that is understandable. This is how Hedge Knights gain glory and the possibility of a position in a Lord's house. It means a lot to many. I would never have become Prince Arryn's Sworn Shield otherwise."

Myrcella nodded, in perfect timing with the Jousters finding their positions, readying themselves to start the game. "He's right, Sansa. Now watch."

Her orders washed over the uncertain Northerner, and together they watched as the idiots charged each other. Faster and faster until just as she predicted, Loras' stick slammed into the Mountain's shield. His horse, affected by the power of the heat scent, kneeled and the massive man fell.

"I told you."

_**'What else do I not know about my children?'**_ **Cersei stared at her daughter, the ease in which she commanded Sansa's attention, the power of her voice when she placed her own bet on Loras. '_Is it Arryn, did he make her change... or am I as blind towards her as I have been towards Arryn and Joffrey?' _Profoundly unnerved, Cersei turned her gaze to the field, watching with a rare enjoyment as Sandor Clegane fought his monstrous brother. A dead horse, nearly decapitated, lay behind him. Loras all but cowered to the right of the fight. **

As the fight went on, Cersei realized that her Husband was not there to stop it. _'If Gregor kills Loras, a war will break out... and if Gregor kills Sandor, then Joffrey will be venerable… sigh.' _Cersei stood, and shouted. "Enough of this, Both you stop." Her words carried out, Sandor kneeling and Gregor looking furious but stilled himself regardless. "You embarrass yourself, Gregor, and the House of my Father. Leave."

The man trembled, looking at her with wrath beyond what should have been human, but it was clear that he knew better then to argue. Without a trace of dignity, he tossed his sword to the ground and marched away.

'_He may be more of a child then Robert.' _ Turning back to her daughter, as Loras raised Sandor's hand in victory and appreciation, she saw a measure of warmth and surprise in her eyes... mostly surprise. '_Does she think so little of me that such an act would warrant that kind of surprise?' _

The idea did not sit well with Cersei, her son's earlier behavior towards her both at Winterfell and the Kingsroad was beginning to make too much sense. Something was wrong, and she did not wish it to be her.

Determined to do something about it, she rose from the stands and stepped to her daughter's seat, turning to her son's sword shield "Dagmir, I need to speak with my Son. Please, escort my Daughter and Lady Sansa wherever they wish to go." She turned to Littlefinger, giving a look that made her desires clear. "I expect my daughter will have her Dragons soon, Lord Baelish."

Not bothering to see the man's response, she turned and strode out with the grace of a queen. She knew, having missed the final joust, that her son was either at the castle or close by. Regardless, she had much to speak with him about.

She could only hope he listened.

* * *

**"Another letter, from Pycelle." His brother's face was worn, tired, and it was clear there was more to what he said. "Another letter... from one of your spies. I haven't read it, but we both know that Tyrion has been in the North for some time." **

Tywin nodded, watching his brother approach him and sit, a letter held in each hand. He was curious to know what was happening at Kingslanding, if his Grandson had proven worthy and if his wretched son had embarrassed their house further. Still, he said nothing, waiting for his brother to show him the first letter, the one from Kingslanding.

_My Lord Tywin, as you have ordered your grandson Prince Arryn has been granted a seat on the Small Council. There was little resistance to this, all seemed ready to accept his position but it was clear that no one anticipated much from him. This was a mistake, within mere minutes your grandson not only deduced the massive debt the crown has fallen into, but found it's source in Littlefinger.  
He managed to manipulate the other Lords into forcing Baelish to pay the entire cost of the Hand's Tournament, quite easily I must add. This gained him the respect of Renly and Lord Eddard it seems as they both have deferred to him more then once during the meetings. _

_In our most recent meeting, he suggested successfully that we use the Squires to aid the City Watch in maintaining order. How successful this will be has yet to be seen, I will report on it in my next letter. _

The letter went on, praising Arryn and mentioning Cersei's cooperation, how the boy took charge and absorbed the information. On and on the praise went, leaving a sour taste in Tywin's mouth.

_'This letter would be a fifth it's size if he would stop licking arse.' _The man's constant, sycophantism was almost enough to mask the genuine pleasure Tywin felt at the knowledge that his grandson had accomplished so much.

"It seems the boy is doing well. You made a wise choice in naming him on the council." Kevan rolled the letter up, handing the next one over and when he did a feeling of dread overcame Tywin.

He only had one thought.

_'What did Tyrion do?'_

* * *

**Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews.**

**I am so proud of this! Robert hates Rhaeger but if you look at Rhaegars past he was beyond loved and when I was reading on him I saw so many parallels between him and Arryn. I think since Robert is irrational and delusional at times, he would see that in his son... I think that the "Mask" that Rhaegar is painted to have had, that he was really mad and evil behind his act of decency... I think that would be more haunting to Robert.**

**I also like the idea that Cersei isn't as blind as she seems, that on some level she is aware of her evil and stupidity but is frustrated by it. I also like showing more personality for Myrcella, who should have had more screen time!**

**Love, your Ninja Overlord, **

**Mika. **


	9. The Winds of Change, the Fires of War

_"What do you need mother? I cannot keep Sansa and Myrcella waiting." _

_The Queen quivered slightly, her son's cold voice a near perfect match to her father. Disdain and disgust melded with a sense of superiority and detachment, a marked similarity she could not ignore, though it pained her greatly. With as much grace as she could manage, she stood tall and smiled apologetically at her son, hooking her arm in his and leading him away from the tourney. _

_"I ordered Dagmir to take them back to their quarters, there is much we need to discuss my son." She kept him close, relishing in the cold of his skin, a balm against the ridiculous heat of the Southern air. A quick glance made it clear that no one important was around, none of her spies or Varys', or even Littlefinger's. That feeling of security emboldened her. "Before you say anything, I wanted to apologize. For not listening to you at the Kingsroad. You were right, it pains me to admit it, but you were. I do not excuse my actions but they were in defense of your brother. You are not a parent, a mother. When are cubs are threatened, we are willing and able to do anything. _

_There are tales of mothers accomplishing incredible feats, mothers without training defeating powerful knights or lifting carts to protect their children. It is impossible to describe to someone who lacks such a connection, one that I myself never understood until Joffrey was born, until I became a mother. That drive, for me, costs me my reason. I acted poorly, I am genuinely sorry for what I did and I wish to make amends with you." _

_Silence, a long moment of nothing as they walked freely, making their way towards the entrance of the gardens that surrounded the castles. There were more people here, but it was clear to her that her son felt more at ease the moment they saw their first person. A women, sitting with a book in hand. A hanger on at court, but one Cersei did not have in her pockets. _

_Yet. _

_They reached a veranda, one frequented during summer days, where people enjoyed tea and sweet cakes and looked out towards the sea. Where the scent of roses and multitude of other flowers cast a veil washing away the stench of shit and sweat that filled the city. A rare comfort in Kingslanding. _

_It was only when they reached this veranda that her son turned to her, eyes cold and wary, that he spoke. _

_"I do not trust you, I am not sure that I ever can... but, for the sake of my siblings I will try and make amends." _

_She surged forth reading to embrace him, words flying off of her tongue. "Oh, my son, I am so thank-" Only for the words to halt as he stepped back, hand out to stop her from making contact. _

_"My forgiveness and trust is not without conditions. I rarely give my trust out and you broke that mother, shattered it entirely and it cost the life of a small child and the happiness of two others. If I am to work with you, you must prove that I can rely on you. Three things, three things that you can and must agree to and I will bring you back into my circle." _

_It was here that she realized that though he reminded her of Tywin, there was more of her mother at play then anyone had realized. _

_"Anything." _

_With the hand he had held her off with, he began to count down his task. "First you will allow me complete control over Tommen and Myrcella's education. They will either be married off or one will rule the Seven Kingdoms if something happens to Joff, they need to be prepared. Right now they are not, having a measure of understanding of what I am learning on the small council will serve them well. That education will include martial training, for Myrcella as well. I will not have her attacked and be helpless, we know what your father ordered to happen to Elia Martell and her children. If Joff's rule or the debt Robert has accrued comes to cost us more then money, they will be in danger. I will not stand for that and nor should you." _

_The words pained her, held her fast, but with them came a moment of excitement. "I wanted to train along side your Uncle Jaimie, in this I will not fight you. I wanted Myrcella to have those choices, but knew that my father and Robert would never allow them." A part of her ached with jealousy, irritated that her daughter had options that she herself lacked. It was frustrating, painful but the knowledge of Myrcella's safety empowered her enough that she could move past that._

_Barely. _

_'He loves them and has proven to be capable, he will not do wrong by them... and even if he does, I can recind on our arrangement.' That thought filled her with comfort, the knowledge of deceit and the possibility of wielding it like a hidden dagger washed across her soul, easing her swollen aching pride. A modicum of control easily won from her son, so swayed by his love of her and his younger siblings. _

_"Good thing we will tell no one. I and my Sworn Shield will train them, personally... to be honest mother, you should learn to at least wield a dagger. If things come to a head, you would be one of the first to be harmed. I do not trust others to protect my family, not when so many sins and grudges burn in our blood." _

_Her heart soared, painfully and she knew then that despite their arguments and silence that her son loved her. That she was getting something over her father, so deeply denied her, only added to that feeling. It was an easy thing to grasp, to cling onto even as her son wrestled even more control over her other children. _

_"Next, I at the least want a considerable say in where and to whom my siblings are married off to. I do not trust Robert in the slightest to make those decisions. I do not trust Tywin to do what is best for them, your own marriage is proof of that." That made Cersei smile, cold and borderline vengeful, enjoying that her son loathed Robert as much as she did and unlike her vile father cared that she was utterly miserable. "I know that I cannot have total control, Tywin will make his views known with or without Robert but you do have a voice no matter how much he may ignore it. When Robert puts himself in an early grave, you will become Queen Regent. That means that your power will be equal to or near equal to the Hand of the King. In this your control over their marriages will be enough to sway even Tywin, wither he wants it to be or not. I will not have them married to people who use or abuse them, they deserve far better then that._

_Lastly, and I cannot stress this enough, you will be kind to Sansa." She opened her mouth, to protest in some way but her son's open hand stopped her, his cold eyes shutting down any desire to interrupt. "She is a child, and like you she was sold to a monster who's issues are far greater then people realize or care to admit. She will suffer enough under my brother, though I will do what I can to mitigate that. You will help her in that Mother, sisters in suffering, sharing a past that so many have endured. She deserves that much from you and you will give that to her. That means you will offer her genuine guidance, kindness and care. If you see Joff being cruel, and we both know that will happen, do what you can to limit the damage or redirect him. I do not care if she is of another's blood, she is to be our family, my sister and your daughter by marriage. That should mean something, to you especially._

_If you agree, Mother, to these three things and prove that you really mean what you promise then I will let you back in my circle... fail to do so, go back on that word and I will banish you and do all I can to render you utterly without purpose or power. Your entire foundation of influence will crumble, Queen or Queen Mother in name only. I give you my word on that, and I so dislike to break my oaths." _

The memories of her son's demands echoed fiercely in Cersei's mind, her own solemn promise following in suit. She wasn't sure if she meant it, knowing she would abandon the oath if she found the need. Her son, skillful and wise as he was, was still just a child and she knew she could slip out of such a grasp.

_'Abandon my pursuits of power, obeying another man... no my son, my love for you is great but I will not allow another man to take what is rightfully mine.'_ She smiled, masking her inner thoughts as she turned her fullest attention to the image of her son, kneeling before Myrcella and Tommen, both dressed in trousers and leather armor. Myrcella's beautiful hair wrapped tightly in a braid her brother had personally woven.

Dagmir, tall and beautiful, held in both hands a wooden sword, looking on with a minor level of discomfort that Cersei understood. She knew, or at least suspected, that like most the beautiful Knight found the notion of training girls to be disconcerting and even immoral. Yet, it was clear that despite this he was willing to obey her son, holding his opinions to himself entirely. He stood straight, clad in his simple armor, a sigil she had never seen wrapped around his arm.

A Grey background with hands holding up a purple heart, all wrapped in beautiful vines.

The styling was beautiful, powerful, conveying a sense of purpose and direction. She knew it was not his sigil, the man had never held such a sigil before and it had no ties to any houses that she knew of. It seemed new, and for that reason it drew her attention, though only for a moment.

Her son's words to his siblings were far more compelling.

"Listen you two, I know it seems strange but from this point on, I am in control over your education. All of it, from what your Maester and Septa will teach you to what you learn on your own. You are to rule, be it as King or Queen if Joff were to perish before his time, or as the Lord or Lady of whatever House you marry into. What you have been learning has not and will not prepare your for this, at all. Gaining my position on the Small Council has taught me as such, though my personal studies have helped, there is much I do not know.

To rectify this, on your behalf, I have restructured your studies entirely. Instead of focusing on Curtseying and smiling and needle work, dear sister, you will learn politics and House management. How to run your family and work with another House. You will learn more on history, war and combat. You will be taking lessons with Dagmir and I on combat, for at least a single hour a day. I refuse to let you become fat like Robert, or grow helpless in case of an attack like so many women past and present. However, as I will be working with the Small Council and working to expand my influence and understanding, I will not always be able to teach you personally. For that reason I will be assigning you books to read and for at one hour a day, perhaps during dinner, you will be telling me what you read and your understanding of it. Your handmaiden will be reassigned, once I look into her. I want no one to know of your training, Robert and Tywin will attempt to stop such a thing and many will underestimate you. That is a tool beyond value, and one I wish for you to wield.

Tommen, your younger then she is but your education is more in line with rule, but not entirely open. For that reason I will be also assigning you books to read and you will be learning combat alongside our dear sister. Your education will revolve around your numbers, Father is incapable of understanding Finance and he bankrupted the realm. Mostly it is our women that are taught that, a foolish task since both men and women have sway over money. Your education will also involve politics and a variety of other subjects as I decide them. However, unlike our sister, I will be having you work underneath our Kennelmaster. I know how dearly you love animals, and having that responsibility over other beings will be good for you. I hope it will teach you a level of responsibility and compassion so many Lord and Kings lack."

From her position, Cersei wondered how her children would react. To her disgust and dismay, and anger, she could not predict it. No matter how much she thought about it, ran the concept through her mind, she simply could not figure out what her children would decided. How they would view their brother's orders.

Cersei hated the changes, some of them anyway. '_Kennelmaster, a lowborn position. He is not such filth, he is my sweet lion, above such labor.' _

She kept her words to herself.

"However, it is cruel of me to ask you to only work. For that reason, outside of our training, I am going to set aside an hour minimum for you to play with or without each other, and an hour where we can and will eat together. One meal at least, and in that moment we will be family. Not royalty, legacies of Tywin or our Mother. I was far too ill to stay with you more then once a month for most of my life, even in the last three years since I have started to regain my strength. I missed out so much of your lives, and I refuse to lose any more. The Starks taught me that. I hope you can forgive me for not being there before."

No, Cersei did not cry as the weight of her son's words, the guilt and pride and love she felt towards her child was not too much. No, she was too proud for such a thing... wiping her eyes had nothing to do with tears. It was dust, blown from the drafty castle into her eyes.

Nothing more.

**Myrcella could not mask her smile as waves of excitement overtook her, an eagerness that all but made her shake. Her life finally, with those words, would gain a purpose. One she would embrace, with all she was. **

_'I never would have guessed... finally, learning something other then being a perfect lady. Sip your tea like this Myrcella, curtsey like this your grace, Ladies are not to play with swords or bows like savages, squeeze out a dozen blonde hair lions my sweet dove. Finally, finally I will get a taste of that which even my mother lacks.'_

Turning to her little brother, she saw him tremble with innocent excitement, the sight of which lifted her spirits even more then before... then crushed it entirely as a wave of misery and fear became all she knew

_' I pray, I hope this teaches him self sufficiency, if Arryn and I cannot help him as he ages, he will only be a puppet. A toy that others will dig their teeth and claws into, tearing him apart. He would be more dangerous a king then even Joffrey. Working with Kennelmaster may be what he needs, I only hope Arryn is right. Pity he won't give me an opportunity like that.'_

She stopped herself, a thought blossoming in her mind, turning her smile into a smirk. She knew Arryn too well, and he knew her. Throughout her life, everyone treated her like a pawn, more Cersei's property then her own person. Tommen saw her as a mother more then a sister, his sweet anchor who protected him from Joff even before Arryn started to gain enough to strength to worry about more then his own life. Eight years of dealing with Joffrey, four years of protecting her brother from his madness. Having her brother, Sweet Arryn, come to her like a person, eager to know her for her, beyond blood or obsession or how he could use her or serve there mother... it was beyond uplifting, it opened her mind. She had never seen herself as more then a broodmare, more then a lady to be sold off to be ridden as her mother so aptly described herself.

He changed her. With each lesson he joined, question he asked, smile and bit of encouragement he bestowed upon her she changed. More and more, questioning her role and what she wanted, but despite that she never assumed or even dreamed that he could or would do this to and for her. He seemed determined and destined to die in obscurity, and yet here he was, wielding power over even mad mother and forging a path for her, one that if walked would make her ready to play in the Game of Thrones one day.

She would never forget that.

'_I wonder what he is going to teach me, dear Tommen is going to work with the Kennelmaster. Fitting and wise, he will love it and it will give him a sense of duty and understanding of consequence while also expanding his lines of communication beyond mother, Joffrey and I. So what is going to teach me, I wonder why he didn't say... '_ Cold green eyes burrowed into hers, she turned to face them and the answer came to her. "_ OF course, mother is here. There is no way he can be open with __me about what he will be teaching me in full, he knows she would try and control what I am learning, to destabilize my project or manipulate me.'_

Burying her curiosity, she focused fully on Arryn, genuinely curious as to what he had for them. Her palm ached for the wooden sword in Dagmir's hands, the expectation of pain and glorious power almost intoxicating in it's naughtiness.

"Now lessons, there are a few important facets of swordplay. Can you tell me what they are?" Myrcella, to her shame, couldn't answer.

Tommen's smile made it clear that he thought he could. "Stance! It keeps you steady and strong!" He fell into his stance, and right away Myrcella knew that her brother had made mistakes. Years of watching knights fight in tourney's, Jaime train in the courtyard, Arryn train on his own made that impossibly clear. "It this right?"

Arryn raised a brow, smirking a little at their youngest brother before reaching out to correct his stance. "Lift your arms a little higher, bend more at the knees... and move your chin up. You need to be able to see your opponent, without that you are dead. You need to be able to focus so drastically on your opponent, that you fade out your own body. Practice will ensure that while you do this, you never have to focus on stance or grip. Sheer habit will control that part.

Other facets that matter include but are not limited to grip, spatial awareness, variable acceleration and the ability to asses and endure pain. Complicated I know but you will understand that as I teach you. Now, before we start that, we need to test your physical abilities. Tommen, you already have some training so Dagmir is going to work with you while I see what Myrcella is physically capable of. Treat him like you treat me, it doesn't matter if you are prince. I expect respect and obedience, am I understood?"

Sweet Tommen nodded, excided and so happy he barrled into Arryn, burying his tiny head into his brother's belly. Arryn just chuckled, rubbing his brother's head before pushing him off, where Dagmir lead him away, whispering orders.

Her brother's full attention was on Myrcella now, the weight of his expectations fully on her. It was a heavy thing, not being able to hide from such a gaze, the realization that her brother would never hold back, treat her like a child. Expectations were a crushing thing, he didn't see her as a broodmare or proper lady. He saw all of her, the potential to be better and brighter then them all. He would expect nothing less...

It was an honor, no matter how painful but one she craved.

In a whisper, one her mother couldn't hear, her brother whispered words that reshaped her entire reality.

"I am having your room moved to my wing, both of yours actually but in your case it is mostly about your training. From this point on, you are on my council dear sister. Whenever and whatever I deal with, in the castle or kingdom, you will hear of it and I will ask your advice. Even if you have little to say, I will be teaching you, molding you to be more. Mother was never taught to rule and look how inept she is, that will never do. You are better you will be better. My Cici, you will be our future."

She didn't throw herself, settling for wrapping her arms around her brother softly, kissing his forehead and just enjoying his presence for a moment. Then she released him, her determination burning through her doubt and fear. She opened her arms entirely, no longer masking her body and how the tight leather confirmed her growing feminine features.

"Now, I need you to punch my hands." Her brother held out his hands, staying on his knees. "Don't hold back, you won't hurt me, I just want to see where we have to go with your strength. You won't just be learning to use a sword. I want you able to use your body, your fists and feet, to protect yourself. A bow as well, but I know you are not strong enough to even pull the string back yet."

"I understand." Without holding back, she punched his hand, ignoring the genuine sting of that shot across her knuckles. Again and again, she hit her brother's fist, annoyed by how tired it made her. "Sorry." She said panting after only a minute of striking his fists.

He just gave her that easy smile, one only she got from him. "It's alright, you have never had to really physically work for anything. That is normal... we need to bolster your stamina before you can do anything. I want you to jog around the courtyard, with you walking every other round. Do this for ten laps, then take a moment to breathe. After that we will work on building your strength. Do not be discouraged if you feel weak, everyone starts somewhere."

With a nod, she walked towards the edge of the courtyard, ignoring the dust rising off of the dirt filled courtyard. Nervousness would not overtake her, she would not allow it, but that did not mean that it did not haunt her every step.

"Lord Arryn." The voice, though muffled through the door that led into the courtyard, echoed across the mostly empty space. Myrcella hid behind a pillar without a need for an order, watching her brother as he walked towards the door. She knew the importance of secrecy.

With a creak, the door opened, revealing the tired eyes of cousin Lancel. Breathless and a little nervous, the man bowed to her brother, looking almost as afraid of her brother as he was of Robert. .

"What do you need?" He kept his tone cordial, but it was clear to Myrcella that her brother was not pleased with the interruption.

The uncomfortable Lannister gulped the air, his eyes twitching to the dedicated sounds of a grunting Tommen swinging his blade, trying to maintain his stance while wielding his wooden weapon. "Your Father, King Robert, has called a meeting of the Small council... something about Daenerys Targaryen."

Everything changed about Arryn's stance, the irritation turned into a cold efficiency that reminded Myrcella of her mother. Turning, he glanced at Dagmir. " Continue as planned, keep your eye out. Mother, I will be back after our meeting but knowing the subject I doubt it will too short. Keep the children away from Father, I do not trust him to keep his temper in order should they irritate him."

Her mother, in a rare moment of cooperation, nodded with fierce devotion. "Of course." Her tone was tight, passionate and despite her dislike of her Mother the sound eased the tension in Myrcella.

"I will be back as soon as I can. Mother, if I am not back by dinner, take the children to my chambers. I had a servant gather the books they will be reading. Dagmir knows which is for which."

Nodding to them all, he followed their cousin, leaving behind unbridled tension that sweet Tommen didn't seem to understand, but from the look on Dagmir's eyes it was clear that the Sworn Shield knew of the weight of what had happened. Something was going to change, the castle would not be a safe place to be around for anyone.

'_No wonder he wishes for us to learn martial skills.' _

More dedicated then ever, Myrcella obeyed her brother's command, jogging around the courtyard, never looking at her mother. This was her path to purpose and she would walk it wherever she went, no matter how hard or tiring it would be.

* * *

**Arryn was actually shaking as he walked to the Council Chambers, fear beyond measure filled every corner of his soul. His father's hatred of the Targaryen Dynasty, the natural Baratheon temper and his inherit entitled personality and increased impulsivity would make this meeting one of untold importance. If he made a mistake, crossed his father or his bloodlust in anyway, he could lose everything. His morals, no matter how much he wished to cling to them, would matter little. **

_'I will be pitted against Father and Lord Stark, Moral and Honorable versus Entitled Bloodlust. In serving my father I may lose Lord Stark's wavering trust in me. This will not be a meeting anyone will truly win.'_

He dreaded the mere idea.

"Thank you." Nearly tripping, shocked at the whispered words that penetrated his deep thoughts, Arryn turned to his cousin, fixing him with a curious look. Lancel flushed, showing clear against his fair skin. The older man was all but shaking, a deeply appreciative look in his terrified eyes. "From before, with your Father."

Understanding where his cousin was coming from, he could not help the smile that crossed his face. "It is alright, I loathe how he treats you Lancel. You try harder then most Squires and your a good man. There is no need to be cruel, it is his duty to teach you to be a Knight. He is failing in that." He kept his tone low, ignoring Lancel's actual flinches as his open admittance of Robert's failing, knowing there were spies everywhere. Pycelle had yet to inform him whom they all were, it was wiser to be quiet.

"Your Lord Father, he is merely, it's in his rights as king to-"

"Few things justify cruelty." He interrupted cousin, stopping him with a look of solidarity. It was an easy thing to place a hand on his bicep, comforting the utterly terrified man. "I am not above correcting his behavior but I only have so much power and he will only put up with so much. Had he not been in a better mood due to the Tourney, I would have never dared to help you... but you cannot continue to serve him Lancel. It isn't right for you. I will speak to my Grandfather, should he allow it I would have you serve me instead. As a prince, it is in my power to take a squire even if I am not a Knight. I am sure we can find you a teacher to embolden your martial talents.

If you agree to serve me then I can protect you from the abuses of my father more fervently. Perhaps in return you can watch over Tommen when is without my attention... yes..."

Staring at his cousin, he took in the man's frail frame. Like most Lannisters, his cousin was thin and tall but unlike most Lannisters the man lacked the willowy muscles and strong frame they tended to have. The frame Arryn had, the frame even Myrcella had despite having no training. He had met his Aunt Dorna, Lancel's mother, once during a tourney for Joffrey's name day and it was clear that he had many of her features. Her weak body and nearly emaciated frame was something she had passed on to Lancel, a fact that hindered his martial training alongside his utter lack of confidence and weak will. He was by no means intimidating, and would likely never be so.

Living underneath the shadow of Tywin had stripped any innate defiance, working underneath Robert had burned out his strength and sense of self. The world, despite his noble status, had never been kind to Lancel and it left Arryn sort of sad. What kind of man would his cousin be had the world been kinder, for even a second. What would he be if he was built upon instead of crushed at every turn.

A wave of protectiveness and empathy, similar but no where as potent as what he felt for his siblings, washed over Arryn. However, unlike with what he felt for his siblings, this wave was tempered with a smug pride knowing that if he helped Lancel the boy would be utterly devoted to him. The one decent island of peace in a sea of cruelty. Having someone other then Dagmir and Myrcella loyal to him, even if he would never entirely trust such a weak person, would be a rather potent boon.

"Speak nothing of this conversation, not even to my mother. I will do what I can but you must be on your best behavior. Your talents and potential are being wasted. Now, let us speak no more of this. I must prepare my mind for what it to come."

And so he did, in utter silence for the rest of the long trek to the Council Chambers. His cousin shaking as his mind swam with the possibilities of freedom from Robert's abuse and fear that his hopes would be for not.

It was not an easy silence.

Once they reached the Council Chambers, Arryn all but tasted the anger and tension in the air. The Guards were pale faced and shifty, a layer of panic in their expression. Robert's rage had melted their arrogance it had seemed.

Without acknowledging them, he turned to his cousin. "Go to my Father's chambers and stand with the guard there. He will be angry if you are not available immediately." It was a tad humorous, watching his much older cousin nearly sprinting away. With that image, he hardened his heart and stepped into the room, ready to fight with words and logic, knowing he would have to live on the defense if he wanted to walk away nearly unscathed.

It was immediately clear that he was not the only one on edge, even the normally unflappable Peter Baelish was shifting in his seat, his hands twitching and clasping on his sides. Varys, though he hid it incredibly well, was sitting straighter and his sense of theatrics was diminished.

Robert, sitting at the head of the table, actually sneered at him as he entered, shaking with rage he could barely contain. It was honestly frightening, a potent fear born of knowing that the man was no longer bound by even a sliver of logic. Pure hatred was his master, rage and bloodlust his friends.

"Father." He bowed slightly, taking his normal position next to Pycelle. "May I ask what this meeting is about or should I wait for Lord Stark?" He kept his tone respectful, low and unchallenging. He hoped it would keep him alive.

His father didn't answer, gritting his teeth as he struggled to hold himself together.

Pycelle leaned towards him, a soft whisper escaping his withered lips even as he slipped a scroll into Arryn's hand. "Daenerys Targaryen has married a Kahl, a Dothraki warlord and is pregnant."

_'Of course... and knowing father he will want her dead, at any cost. I cannot say that he is wrong to want that, even without his hatred.' _Layers and years of study, his rather broad knowledge of Westeros History, made clear that his father killing the Targaryans would be a wise choice. '_I cannot see Lord Stark allowing it, the man is wrapped in a layer of honor and idealism a mile thick. If he fights father with the same fervency as he resents and slanders Jaime, then this will be disastrous.'_

It wasn't hard to predict the views of each of the other Council members, how they would handle this. Pycelle would act the part of a syncophant and agree without a real reason, Varys would do the same but with more theatrics. Peter is cold and unfeeling, he is used to dirty dealing anyway so I cannot imagine he would see an issue with this. Renly, being raised under the hatred of Robert and growing up after the war... he would bend to his Brother's desires and more then likely to agree though a part of that would be out of sheer empathy.

Lord Stark burst through the door a few minutes after Arryn, a hesitance in his eyes making it clear that he too held some fear for the rage boiling inside of Robert.

"The Whore is Pregnant." Each letter, filled with utter loathing, weighed heavily on them all.

It looked as if they literally pained Lord Stark, but as he spoke it also became clear that it was almost a continuation of another conversation between the two men. The understanding in Lord Stark's eyes, the tightening of his stance and exasperation of words. "Your speaking of murdering a child."

On some level, these words lifted Arryn, however he it also broke some of his little respect for the man. '_Can he not see the danger this presents us all? Not even through the Dothraki but through her name...' _

_"_I warned you this would happen, back in the North. I warned you. But you didn't care to hear, well hear it now." Robert adjusted himself in the chair, a frigidness only adding more potency to his words. " I want them dead, mother and child both and that fool Viserys as well is that plain enough for you? I want them both dead" The words turned on themselves becoming an insult.

On that hit home with flawless accuracy.

"You would dishonor yourself. Forever if you do this." Lord Starks words were pained, his desperation clear.

"HONOR! I'VE GOT SEVEN KINGDOMS TO RULE. ONE KING SEVEN KINGDOMS. YOU THINK HONOR KEEPS THEM IN LINE. YOU THINK IT'S HONOR THAT KEEPING THE PEACE? IT'S FEAR, FEAR AND BLOOD!"

Arryn stood here, feeling the hateful eyes of his father upon him, but knowing that if there was any time to speak it would be now before the two broke from each other. He looked at Lord Stark, eyes compassionate and soft.

"I understand your dislike of this, Lord Stark. It is distasteful and evil."

His father actually stood up, knocking his chair backwards onto the floor. "EVIL! YOU LITTLE SHIT, WHAT YOU KNOW ABOUT EVIL? WHAT BUSINESS DO YOU HAVE-"

"But father is right." His words slammed into his father who stopped talking, giving him a furious but almost confused look. Slamming into Ned Stark who actually took a step back with a look of betrayal, as if he could not fathom that Arryn would actually agree with such an evil act. "A simple look in history makes it clear the danger that she presents, even if you utterly ignore the Dothraki. She has a name, a name that holds power over history and a generation of people who served it. Even if she or Viserys never hold the desire to rule, or the Madness inherit to their blood, the name is the key to immeasurable instability in the realm.

Any and everyone with a grudge towards the capital, to the realm. Anyone who wishes to garner control over the realm, is eager for power. These people can use them, spearheading conflict and command that will be turned against us. It has happened before, the Blackfyre Rebellions and the War of the Ninepenny Kings. Five rebellions, five rebellions that devastated the realms and left a culture of fear that only served to increase the distrust and dislike of bastards. The Free Cities and those within used their connection to the Targaryens to justify and lead a path of destruction for our realm, the scars remain even after almost fifty years.

It was something that could have been rectified if anyone had taken seriously the long term threat they presented. Cut the weed out root and stem. They rebelled and warred five times, after at least the second rebellion it should have been clear that their aspirations were too great and their willingness to disobey to potent for the realms safety.

I hold no grudge against the Targaryans, I wasn't born during their reign nor knew anyone who suffered directly at their hands. I cannot understand my father's rage and hate for that reason but it also means that I am not ruled by it. In the interests of the realm and our people, sacrifices must be made. They must die, before the infection can spread. Before they or others harness the power of that name to disrupt the fragile balance of our realm. In this we must as iron, united and strong."

His words ceased but the presence of his words rippled across the room, he could feel a smugness in his father's stance. From the corner of his eyes, the Lords looked at him with a respect they had never bothered to give him. Even Peter seemed to look at him with a new light, something he knew also made the man register him as a threat.

He would remember that...

More important then all of that however was the coldness, not unlike that of the direwolves of Winterfell, made it's way across every feature of Lord Stark's eyes. His unyielding spirit had proved stronger then even the wisdom of Arryn, his logic wasted as it slammed against the man's sense of honor and rigid world view.

"From the mouth of the Son of Tywin, I am not surprised to hear such a thing." He held no emotion in his tone, only something that bordered on hatred.

"My Grandfather is a monster, but being a monster is often what is needed for the good of the realm. Being in power means making sacrifices for the realm, our personal morals matter little. I will never like this, I will not celebrate their deaths but I will not regret them either. The Realm comes first, Lord Stark, the lives of three people be damned."

Ned actually sneered at him, looking far more like Cersei then he would ever be happy to realize. "How do we know she is pregnant, because the Spider heard a rumor?"

Varys, whom everyone turned to bar Robert, leaned forward with an almost offended sort of look on his face. "Not a rumor, my Lord, the Princess is with child."

"Based on who's information?"

"Ser Jorah Mormant. He's serving as advisor to the Targaryans."

Disgust overtook the coldness. "Mormant, you bring us the words of a traitor half a world away and call it fact."

"He was never a traitor, Lord Stark." Arryn felt a level of enjoyment as the disgust turned towards him, a flair of hatred building towards the unyielding moron that was the Stark Lord. "He sold people into slavery, a vile deed and one that is punishable by death but it does not make him a traitor. He never turned against the realms, or my father. He fled for his life, choosing to not suffer the consequences of his actions. However, it is this crime and his fear of punishment that makes his word so reliable.

He has lost everything, doing this, serving and watching the Targaryans under the guise of loyalty while actually serving my Father would be one of the only acts that could restore his losses, on at least some level. It is not honorable, but as my father said Honor has little to do with ruling. It only has power when all are honorable, and since that is not what the world is Honor is a hinderance that will only undo the fragile peace."

It took all he had, every drop of restraint not to charge the man in front of him and attempt to carve him into nothing. How could anybody be so blinded to reality, so stuck in himsel that he ignored the painful realities that was so present in their world. A man who's father and grandfather had served valiantly in the Blackfyre Rebellions, who saw the evils of the Mad King.

How Winterfell was standing with such a fool at it's helm was beyond Arryn.

"How could you... why would you..." The man shook, his eyes closed tight. "Without honor we are no better then the beasts, then the Mad King."

"Careful Ned, careful! It doesn't matter, what if he's right?" Robert, who had fallen silent, started to bellow as the fires in heart raged ever brighter. "If she has a son? A Targaryen at the Head of a Dothraki army? What then?"

Ned straightened his back, defiance clear in his eyes. "The Narrow Sea still lies between us. I'll fear the Dothraki the day they teach their horses to run on water."

"No culture is unchanging Lord Stark." Arryn almost cringed, he was stunned at the sound of his own voice. He sounded empty, callous and cruel. "Right now they fear the sea, but what of their descendants? What of those who come afterwards, lead by one tied to our lands in name and blood? They are raiders and ravers by nature, the challenge and promise of a new land filled with new challenges and battles to be won would make them malleable. Especially if their leader is of foreign blood. They serve their Kahl without question. Would it be hard, of course it would be, but power and promise can sway even the most steadfast and stubborn hearts. They may not be a threat to us now, but if a boy is born, then our future and the future of realm is in jeopardy.

We cannot do nothing, killing the girl and her brother would only serve to protect our people. Ensuring that at least one potential path of destruction is no longer open to our enemies." Turning to his father, he shared a look of rare understanding with the brute. " It would be wise to kill the Kahl as well. Kahlasars only hold themselves together on the respect and fear bound to their Kahl. Take him out and the entire army will evaporate, the sum of it's power dividing into nearly nothing. Without the head holding them together, they hold little threat to us."

Robert, to his own shock, grinned at him for the first time in his life. "The boy gets it Ned, a boy of fourteen, never having seen a war or tasted blood. He gets it, you honorable fool, why can't you?" He was no longer yelling, settling for a near growl.

The rest of the Councilmen turned their gazes to Ned Stark, with Renly speaking first. "My Nephew is right, we should have them killed years ago."

"When you find yourself in bed with an ugly women, you'd best close your eyes and get it over with. Cut her throat, be done with it." Naturally that was Peter Baelish, and even in the heat of conversation most of them rolled their eyes at his words.

Pycelle, ever the sycophant, leaned forward. "A rough analogy, but one I cannot disagree with. I hold no ill will towards the girl, but three lives, even if two are children, cannot be held above the rest of the realm."

"If the gods see fit to bestow a son to the Princess..." Varys, who had been silent for a time, spoke up with a rare moment of seriousness and lack of dramatic presence. " Then the realm will burn, in one way or another. It is vile that we must do this but for those of us who presume to rule we must often commit vile deeds for the good of the realm."

Frustration only built in Arryn's chest, anger and disgust melding until he said his last piece before the emotions overtook his good sense."

"Lord Stark, none of us have an exceptional grudge against them bar my father but we all serve the realm first. In the interest of the realm, this is what we must do. Weather you like it or not, weather it fits your morals and honor and pride. It is not about you, Lord Stark, or me or even my Father. It is about the Realm. Do your duty and be done with it."

Cold, merciless and unendingly annoyed, Arryn finally sat down, looking at the moron wrapped in clothes he himself crafted. He knew, from the way the man looked at him, at all of the lesser councils and focused entirely on Robert. As if they did not matter, as if their words held no purpose or power. It was then that something became clear to Arryn.

_'For a man so disgusted by manipulation he sure is fond of using his past with Robert to control him, to guilt him into obedience.' _

Ned took a step forth, moving closer and closer until he was leaning over the table, his face a mix of pain and loss. "I've followed you into war, twice. Without doubts without second thoughts. But I will not follow you now. The Robert I grew up with didn't tremble at the shadow of an unborn child."

"He isn't the man you grew up with, seventeen years of ruling and two wars makes a great change in anyone." Arryn's voice was low, almost a whisper as his hate for this stupid man solidified. "He is not trembling before the shadow of an unborn child, he is pulling out a weed before it poisons the rest of the garden. Culling the diseased before they infect the rest, pulling out the burning branch before it sets the forest ablaze. Unlike you, Lord Stark, he is not allowing something as pointless and useless as honor to obscure the dangers this child will present us. Unlike you, he values the realm more then his personal pride."

A lie, he knew it was solely about revenge for his father, but the words hit home. Lord Stark looked at him, betrayed and disgusted.

"The man who casts the sentence should wield the sword. Are you willing to do that? Take your unstained blade, with your green hands and carve this child and it's mother in two for the good of the realm, Prince Arryn?"

A moment's silence as the challenge rippled across the room everyone turned to him, in curiosity and concern.

He knew the answer. "Without hesitation, with my teeth if needed."

"The girl dies, Ned. I don't care how it happens, the girl dies and so does her fool of a brother." Robert's voice was as cold as Arryn's own, and in it he heard such a similarity that it became clear that despite their separation and isolation, Robert had in fact left his own mark on Arryn. Blood be damned.

"I will have no part in it."

"You are the King's Hand, Lord Stark. You'll do as I command or I'll find me a Hand who will."

Lord Stark pulled off the Hand's pin, placing it on the table. "And good luck to him. I thought you were a better man."

"He's a King not a man."

Ned turned to Arryn, sneering once more. "Why do the two have to be separate?"

"One serves himself and his family first, the other serves his people. A lesson I hope you or your son learn, Lord Stark. I fear for the future of your House should it be forgotten."

Everyone, even Robert cringed at his words. Ned, eyes filled with something that bordered on hate, the same look as he gave Jaime Lannister, turned on heel and marched away. The King, so stunned by his son's words, didn't even call for the Hand or insult him in a typical tantrum.

Arryn didn't care, he knew that he was right. He may have been open, to brutal, to brash, but he was right. Ned Stark would burn the world down if it suited his honor, he was not fit to rule anyone. If he did not shape up, if his son's did not learn that lesson, then they would never grow as a people. Stagnant and isolated until their Kingdom crumbles under the weight of the world and progress.

From that point, in quick whispers and uneasy conversation, his father and Varys discussed how to best remove the last Targaryans. Robert decided he didn't care how, only that it happened, and that as his son suggested they also get rid of Kahl Drogo. This last fraction of the meeting took moments, less then a full three minutes, before it separated.

"Boy." Robert said, as he passed, holding him back as the other's left. He was uncomfortable, even afraid, knowing that his father was likely not pleased with what had happened, his words towards Lord Stark. He was about to apologize, mitigate the damage even slightly, but Robert did something he never expected. "I am proud of you."

Eyes wide, jaw almost scraping the floor, Arryn stared at his father. "I am sorry, what?"

"You stood up to Ned, something I have almost never been able to do. He's good, very good at making people feel all of an inch tall. He has never been able to deal with the ugly parts of the world. Even during the war, both of the wars actually, he never could make hard choices. It cost us, often and in great numbers. I have never told this to anyone, but nearly a tenth of the deaths in the war could be attributed to Ned's reluctance to make hard choices. I do not know how you can do that, how you can shut yourself off like that.

Maybe you get it from Tywin... I do not know." The King stepped forward, putting his hands on Arryn's shoulders, eyes oddly warm. "I never should have been a father, I never questioned that. I am not the type, too selfish and impulsive, but your not like that. Your not cruel like your mother. I am proud of you, you will serve this country well. Tywin may be a bastard but he was right, putting you on the Small Council was a good idea. I need you, people like you, who can tell me no... who can make hard choices without ass licking and money grubbing. I need you.

You are never going to be king, but I will do what I can to make you Hand when you get older. Joffrey will need you, someone like you to help him to rule. Gods know that your mother is not fit enough for that."

Patting him, with more strength then seemed possible for such a clearly exhausted man, the King of the Seven Kingdoms gave an awkward nod before walking away. The weight of the Seven Kingdoms sitting heavily on his broad shoulders.

It was several minutes later, after he struggled to contain that odd scene with Robert, that Arryn managed to leave the Small Council Chamber. Almost aimlessly, like he was floating, Arryn strode toward the hall containing his room. Absently, he pulled from a pocket the scroll Pycelle had given him, deciding to finally look at it's contents.

It was small, thinner then his pinky and about as long. It wasn't stamped with any sigil or sign, but he knew it was from his Grandfather and thus would be important.

His heart all but stopped the moment he opened it as only two sentences filled the paper. Two sentences that rearranged his world, justified his choice to take over Myrcella and Tommen's education, idea to gain a Sworn Shield and encouraged him to start training in combat once again. Words that, by their very nature, could destroy their country and the uneasy peace that held it all together.

Words he never wanted or expected to hear.

_"Caitlyn Stark has kidnapped your Uncle Tyrion, blaming him for her son's fall. _

_If he is not returned in three days, our Houses go to War."_

* * *

**Chapter Over, Tell me what you think in the reviews. **

**My best work, period. It isn't the best start, I think but boy is it long and strong and powerful. Twists and turns and changes that fit his personality and the stupidity of those around him. I love it and am beyond proud of this chapter.  
**

**Please, please review this. I need to know what you think of this masterpiece. **

**Love, forever yours, **

**Your Ninja Overlord, **

**Mika. **


	10. Smaller Council, Goals and Attacks

**I have a bad habit about losing interest and focusing too much on one story... this started to happen then my meds and dedication kicked in and I overcame it! I still want to work on my Chronicles of the Cursed Story but I haven't my desire to work on this!**

**I love when things go well!**

**However there was a delay for another reason... I was deciding Robert's fate. I need some feedback to help me decided it further. I have some ideas but I want to set them up well, something new for me... So please, give me your thoughts. I need a sounding board.**

**Last thing, I have a picture I want to be draw for the cover of this story... any offers?**

* * *

"**Father is actually proud of someone that isn't himself? That is possible?" **

Dagmir almost choked, staring at the little Princess, unable to comprehend that she would so easily and openly disagree and disrespect her King Father. Her words seemed almost foreign, false, something a mere child of eleven would never say and yet here she was speaking so easily and lowly of the very king himself. From the lack of shock on Arryn's face, it was clear this was not an uncommon occurrence.

In fact the boy seemed amused and in utter agreement. "I was as surprised as you are. I admit, it threw me enough that I didn't question him but I know he was lying to me. Not about being proud but about accusing Lord Stark of being guilty of a tenth of the deaths. I wouldn't be surprised if he was a part of many poor mistakes but there were many around him that were not fools in the way he was. No, this was father being consumed by his pain and rage and making accusations instead of using facts. It was an easy out... and a way to more fully gain my loyalty, or so I imagine. I've never gotten a full read of our father. At times he truly seems to understand politics, and at others he barely seems to understand only enough to fulfill what pleasure he can find in his vices.

Now, as fun as it is to insult him, we cannot afford to focus so solely on this matter. One of my servants have informed me that father is planning a hunt. I may be called away at any time if father's pride is truly so great. I need to know what you think of this matter Myrcella? How would you have handled this?"

_'It cannot be appropriate for a child...even a royal one.' _A foolish thought he knew, kings were made at younger ages then Myrcella was, queens even younger then that.

For a moment the girl said nothing, content to ring her fingers through her hair, pulling at curls and coils while she collected her thoughts.

"I don't like it in anyway case but I think you were right." She turned away, a touch of shame in her eyes. "The thought of causing the death of another, especially a child, is a painful one but I can see why you have to do it. One life cannot be worth our entire country. Your not wrong, everyone knows the stories of the Blackfyre Rebellion and all of the horrible things that happened because of one group so desperate to use a vague connection to the Targaryens to justify a desperate power grab that cost so many people their lives...it would have been a kinder, more noble act to end the entire clan after the second rebellion. It was clear their loyalty was lacking and they were still hungry for power, a hunger only exacerbated by traces of Targaryen madness. It shouldn't be celebrated though, like father will most likely do."

'_Okay, I was wrong, she is not a child even if she appears to be one.' _

The words seemed to move Arryn, he turned and kneeled to his sister, even as she sat at the table at the far end of his room. "Knowing when to cast judgement, and knowing when to make a hard choice even if it kills your spirits... that is the mark of a leader." He held her hand, soft and sweet despite the cold reality of his words.

"Your brother's right, M'Lady. The same idea goes for battle. Despite the songs of war and violence filling the halls of every castle in the world, killing always leaves a sour mark on the souls of those forced to do so." Dagmir couldn't help enjoy, drink in, the smile of the sweet princess. It was a nice thing, to serve one that was no so cold and unyielding and precocious as those who lived in Kingslanding. "Can't tell you how many praise war but do little to heal those broken from it."

"Thank you, Dagmir." The girl whispered, smiling at him softly with the sweetest green eyes.

Eyes that were something a little more then sweet looked at him from where Arryn was kneeling, a remind that maybe he had said just the right thing.

"Now, enough of such a sad topic. Let's talk about marriage." Dagmir almost choked at the poor girl's terrified look. "Not now, but we all know it will happen soon enough. I want you to have a choice in it when it comes. Mother agreed to allow me to have a choice or a say rather, but since it will be your life I will be using your choice to justify my words. Now, you don't have to answer now just know that it has to be an equal to you. Your the only daughter of the King and Queen, granddaughter of the terrifying and powerful Tywin Lannister. It defines your worth more then anything you do, I am afraid, so we have to allow it to define your wedding. Keep in mind that any Prince of Dorne is an option, and so is Robb Stark. There are others but you must be willing to justify it. Consider that your first lesson, the first task you will consider if you will for further discussion.

As for your second lesson, I want you to get into charity work. Father is hated by many, mother by countless others. We need to rebuild you some sort of reputation, that will allow you some greater power still. Influence outside of the family to aid you in times of need."

Myrcella's eyes brightened, her fear of the idea of marriage evaporating before his eyes. "Like Alysanne Targaryen or Betha Blackwood!"

"Very good, yes! Alysanne was able to gain incredible influence, so much so that even before she became queen she was able to accomplish a great many feats. People adored her and wanted to listen to her." He smiled, stepping back and gesturing to Dagmir. "I expect you to accomplish the same. My grandfather gains influence out of fear, my father out of racious parties and a willingness to bestow honor, my mother through promises of power... I intend to gain favor by bettering our reputation and offering aid. In the North it was clear the people loved their Lords, I didn't get much chance to look into town but I did see a massive dimwitted man perform as a stable boy. Hodor I do believe his name was.

Most would have made him a fool or something equally as cruel and yet they treated him with deference and respect, and he performed his job exceptionally well. It was inspired really... I aim to do the same, or rather I aim to make the people trust us. Show that we are a better crowd to listen and love then my grandfather. To start I will be improving the health of the people through public work projects. My sewer project will have to wait until we have greater funding, but I do believe increasing our granaries and improving local orphanages will be welcome. I also aim to have maesters offer some basic healers training to local women. With mother's stories about how our grandmother's death it seems foolish to not have better trained healers at hand for the births of our people. It will take at least a month of pleading but I hope to get the funding for it personally.

Now, given what I just told you, what do you both wish to do? How would you give a reputation, a better one for both myself and yourselves especially now that our names shall be linked? Dear sister this will be what you do in place of our brother's time under the Kennel master. Dagmir this will be how I justify giving you a Lordship some day."

Dagmir didn't answer, instead he just looked at the man in front of him and wondered. '_What is the King thinking keeping him from the Line of Succession? No one has ever asked me what I wanted to do in anyway, let alone for an act of charity...' _Urge to asslick aside, he stopped and thought. '_Lord Dagmir of House... what? I wear Lord Arryn's personal Sigil now, but what would I wear if I had one of my own... if I am to have my own House, then I should start thinking about how to make it so that I can make that House Thrive. Will Lord Arryn always be the best ally or should I make other allies for when he is no longer in my interests?'_

* * *

Renly Baratheon's Chambers was oddly plain, a strange thing given his rather ostentatious tastes. The truth, simple and sad as it was, was that his brother would only allow so much an expression of his tastes. Yet, here Renly was seated in a chair with his beloved Ser Loras Tyrell kneeling beside him, preparing to shave Renly's chest.

"Lord Stark's lucky he still has a head." Almost laughing, Loras was mixing a cream in one hand before pasting it onto Renly's chest.

Renly actually did give a weak chuckle. "Robert will rant for a few days, but he won't do anything. He adores the man."

Years of being lovers made it impossible to hide his pain from Loras. "You're jealous." His eyes were too knowing, they left Renly almost weak."

"Are you sure this won't hurt?" And easy way away from the conversation that still hurt to even think about.

"Only if I slip."

"And you prefer me like this?"

"hm - mmm... " Slowly, his lover began to render the hair from his body, bit by bit around the nipple.

Unable to mask his need to mock his lover, even if playfully, he snarked. "If you want hairless, maybe you should find a little boy."

"I want you."

The words were touching, soft and sweet and it made it impossible not to start opening up to what his lover really wanted him to speak of."My brother thinks that anyone who hasn't been to war isn't a man. He treats me as if I'm a spoiled child. Oh, and you're not? Loras Tyrell, the Knight of the Flowers? How many wars have you fought in? Oh, and how much did your father spend on that armor of yours? "

Loras pinned him with a look of pure defiance only he was capable of." Hold still."

"All I ever hear from Robert and Stannis is how I'm not tough enough, how I squirm at the sight of blood."

"You did vomit when that boy's eye was knocked out in the mêlée." His tone absent, Loras focused on his work on making Renly closer and closer to the boyish look he apparently craved.

Renly barely withheld the vomit as the memory surfaced. "His eye was dangling out of the damn socket!"

"He shouldn't have entered the mêlée if he didn't know how to fight."

The pain, jealousy really, surfaced. "Easy for you to say. Not everyone is such a gifted swordsman."

"It's not a gift. No one gave it to me. I'm good because I work at it - every day of my life since I could hold a stick. "

"I could work at fighting all day, every day, and still never be as good as you."

" Yes well, I guess we'll never know." Loras wiped Renly's chest off and then raised his arm to shave underneath it.

Unable to mask his shock and discomfort, Renly gaped at his lover. "Everywhere?"

"Everywhere. So how did it end up? The Targaryen girl will die?"

Somehow it was easier to talk about the murder of a small pregnant girl. "It needs to be done, unpleasant as it is. Robert's rather tasteless about it. Every time he talks about killing her, I swear the table rises six inches."

"It's a shame he can't muster the same enthusiasm for his wife."

"He does have a deep, abiding lust for her money." He laughed a cold, mocking sound as he imagined his monstrously cruel sister by marriage. "You have to give it to the Lannisters - they may be the most pompous, ponderous cunts the gods ever suffered to walk the world, but they do have outrageous amounts of money."

For some reason this made his lover pause. " I have an outrageous amount of money."

"Not as much as the Lannisters."

"But a lot more than you."

"Robert's threatening to take me hunting with him, He's trying to get Arryn to go with us as well. Last time we were out there for two weeks - tramping through the trees in the rain, day after day. All so he can stick his spear into something's flesh! Oh, but Robert loves his killing. And he's the King." He sighed softly, a sound that echoed with the pain of being related to such an insanely cruel moron like his brother.

"Hmm ... How did that ever happen?"

"Because he loves his killing..."The image of his brother, black bearded and once handsome and lean and strong filled his mind. Days spent casting his hammer into dummies and other knights... an image he hadn't seen in more then a decade."... and he used to be good at it."

"Do you know who should be King?" Both men exchanged a look, disbelief and shock versus faith and seriousness.

"Be serious." He kept his tone mocking, masking the desire that rushed through him at the suggestion of wielding such power. Power so undeservingly given to Robert.

"I am. My father could be your bank. I've never fought in a war before, but I'd fight for you."

"I'm fourth in line."

"And where was Robert in the line of royal succession? Joffrey is a monster. Arryn was cast out of the line for being too sickly. Tommen is eight.

The image of his brother, tall and ancient looking staring starkly at him from within his mind stemmed some of his excitement. "Stannis?

"Stannis has the personality of a lobster."

"He's still my older brother." Memories, this time mocking him from the Small Council meeting. The words of pride he heard Robert give to his nephew, a child his brother had all but ignored his entire life, resurfaced and with them a sense of painful and angry jealousy. "Besides if anyone should be king it's Arryn, he's actually trained in combat and can tell even Robert no. He all but commanded the entire council, even Littlefinger seems to respect him. My Brother is proud of him now, he seems him as a man."" Sharp and sweet washed across him as Loras sliced a small cut in Renly's side, the disgusting line of red liquid leaving a breathlessness to Renly's chest "What are you doing?"

"Look at it."

"You cut me!"

"It's just blood. We've all got it in us. Sometimes a little spills. If you become King, you're going to see a lot of this. You need to get used to it. Go on. Look. People love you. They love to serve you because you're kind to them. They want to be near you." Loras rose and taking Renly by the hand, having him stand up as well. "You're willing to do what needs to be done, but you don't gloat over it. You don't love killing. Where is it written that power is the sole province of the worst? That thrones are only made for the hated and the feared. Arryn is smart, but he's young and sick while your strong and viral. The people know you, you've served them for years. You would be a wonderful King.

Loras then kneeled down in front of Renly, unfastening Renly's pants and slid them down.:

After a moment, Renly could not hold back his smiling at neither Loras' skill mouth nor the idea of getting one over on Robert, Stannis and his nephew... people everyone looked over him to see. People of power, people who did so little to earn their respect or might.

He was not a warrior like them but he would show them...

Show them all one day, maybe as Loras suggested. Maybe one day he would be king after all...

Maybe.

It wasn't like Robert was going to last much longer as it was.

* * *

The King Robert's chambers echoed with a pained silence, the man masked his mourning over his argument with Lord Stark, his Ned. It was an easier thing to do, years of practice made focusing on wine and anger and sadness almost effortless for him, he drank cup after cup, not even noticing the absence of his squire. The boy's presence wasn't wanted as it was, and would have only served to anger him more so it was for the best.

Then Cersei walked into his chambers, and his pain only increased though oddly enough his anger did not. " I'm sorry your marriage to Ned Stark didn't work out." Her words were soft, only carrying a minute echo of mocking. It was still enough to remind him of how dearly his loathed her but not enough to make him angry. " You seemed so good together."

"I'm glad I could do something to make you happy."

Cersei actually sighed, sitting in her chair "Without a Hand, everything will fall to pieces."

" I suppose this is where you tell me to give the job to your brother Jaime."

"No. He's not serious enough." She seemed almost amused by that, as if the very idea was as laughable as Robert personally saw it. "I'll say this for Ned Stark - he's serious enough. Was it really worth it? Losing him this way?"

The weight of her words and the memories they brought up, the weight of his anger and loss was impossibly great. " I don't know. But I do know this " He stood, turning to stare out of his window out to the courtyards below. "- If the Targaryen girl convinces her horse-lord husband to invade and the Dothraki horde crosses The Narrow Sea ... we won't be able to stop them. Your son knew this... gods, when he spoke I saw them crossing the Narrow Sea myself, on the helm of a powerful series of ships. It was a good idea, putting him on the Council, he almost swayed Ned." He almost laughed, the image of his fat body with armor stretched around it burned into his mind. "I was ready to lead against them in that moment. He can speak and he is wise and cold."

His words almost seemed to pain Cersei, to his surprise and she turned away. ""The Dothraki don't sail. Every child knows that. They don't have discipline. They don't have armor. They don't have siege weapons. How could they be a threat as you and apparently Arryn seen them as?"

KING ROBERT: Cultures change, your son mentioned as much. I saw Viserys as the great threat against us but Arryn pointed out that he is only the start. In a generation, under the thrall of a new Horse Lord, one born of Targaryen mad blood and raised to believe that this land is his right, they will break from their fears. They will follow him to the ends of the earth and over the Narrow sea. Ten or forty thousand Dothraki screamers, backing a Dothraki trained Targaryen, crossing the Narrow sea with the intent to charge upon us and take all we hold dear. We hole up in our castles - a wise move. Only a fool would meet the Dothraki in an open field. They leave us in our castles. They go from town to town, looting and burning, killing every man who can't hide behind a stone wall, stealing all our crops and livestock, enslaving all our women and children.

How long do the people of the Seven Kingdoms stand behind their absentee King - their cowardly King hiding behind high walls? When do the people decide that this Targaryen, be it Viserys or his nephew, is the rightful monarch after all."

"We still outnumber them, now or in the future."

Which is the bigger number - five or one?"

She seemed almost offended, his wife, but still she answered. " Five."

He held up his hands, one with all five fingers and one fist. Five ... one." He slammed his fist home, right into his open hand. " One army, a real army, united behind one leader with one purpose. Our purpose died with the Mad King. Now we've got as many armies as there are men with gold in their purse. And everybody wants something different. Your father wants to own the world. Ned Stark wants to run away and bury his head in the snow. Your son wants to rule the council."

"What do you want?"

Mockingly, he held up his wine. "We haven't had a real fight in nine years. Back-stabbing doesn't prepare you for a fight. And that's all the realm is now - back-stabbing and scheming and arse-licking and money-grubbing. Sometimes I don't know what holds it together."

"Our marriage." And so finally, after seventeen years, they shared in more then pain or hate. They laughed and laughed, a sad pained sound from two broken souls bound together by paper and politics.

"Ah, so here we sit, seventeen years later, holding it all together. Don't you get tired?"

" Every day."

"How long can hate hold a thing together?"

** Cersei stopped herself, a part of her wanting to ask a question so deep in herself that she never even considered it. Yet answers to another more potent question had to come first. "Well, seventeen years is quite a long time... tell me, what is he like on the Council, Arryn? I cannot imagine he has this influence that even you and Pycelle seem to praise." She focused with a rare grip she often struggled to find, desperate to find something over her son and ensure that she could still maneuver over him should he get the power he was so rapidly approaching. **

With haunted eyes, Robert turned away. "He reminds me of Jon Arryn only meaner. More militaristically minded. I thought for a moment he was going to call me evil, cruel for calling for the death of the Targaryens." Her husband snorted, mocking and amused all at once. "He actually called for the death of the whore's husband as well, calling Ned weak and actually had the audacity to wonder for the safety of his people with him at their helm. I never have seen so much anger in Ned... when the boy called honor all but useless in ruling, I thought Ned would cut his head off... he reminded me a lot of your father."

"I've thought the same. We made a mistake, ignoring him I believe."

"Yes we did. I am taking him hunting with me. With a mind like that, I need to see where his loyalties lie."

"With his sister and brother." She spoke without meaning too, but since Robert was too die soon she didn't bother to mask what came next. "He convinced me to give him total control over the path of their education. He is teaching even our daughter how to fight. She seems to enjoy it."

She expected some anger, some disbelief in her husband's eyes... and yet only pride filled them. "Good, she's beautiful and I worry that our enemies might work against her. If she was to marry Robb, she would have likely learned archery at the least."

'_So I was wrong, even in this he is no ally... very well.' _

* * *

**"... The squires and pages were not happy with you." Dagmir enjoyed the irritation that crossed his Lord's face at those words. "Something along the lines of _wasting their talent on protecting lowborn bastards _or something to that affect." **

Myrcella actually leaned forward, a growl almost at her lips. "Ungrateful the lot of them. How many are actually able to see the point? They should be given a position among us, to prove the use of this opportunity my brother has presented them." Her green eyes were wild, a rare rage he had never seen in such a child. It wasn't unreasonable temper tantrums like one would expect but deepest irritation and despair for the stupidity of others. "Hmmm perhaps we can see those who actually have greater skill. I am sure the Kingsguard will need to be filled with more then sycophants held by my mother and grandfather. If we can prepare for when my brother is on the throne, then we can ensure his safety better while also gaining allies... as for the others, perhaps having them guard my brother or I or even you Arryn? Lancel is capable enough I suppose but he is no match for anyone of greater skill. Having him as their figure head would also keep him satisfied and out of the way while also keeping his loyalty."

The words of the small girl held a greater impact, one that a small child should never have.

'_It is little wonder Lord Arryn wants to mold her into a queen.' _Unable to mask his respect, and mild discomfort, he nodded to her. "I know of a few that would be a good fit with some adjustments. However most were irritated and ungrateful, only a handful showed any understanding or acceptance of what was going on. It will be a difficult task but one I can work on."

Arryn, having been silent, finally spoke. "Wonderful. My sister is right, we need more allies. The Knights are bound to powerful families, the majority of them anyway. Having an ear and finger in those families would be an unbridled gift. Do what you can but be careful, knights or not most of them are politically trained and will be willing and able to see through any guise of kindness or questioning-"

"Lord ARRYN!" A voice burst through his door, opening it to reveal a rush and terrified Lancel Lannister.

Dagmir flinched, having stood with sword drawn in an instant. Not knowing if there was a threat, he moved in front of Myrcella and stayed low.

"What is it Lancel? Who is hurt? Are we in danger?" Quick and worried, Lord Arryn had pulled out a blade of his own it seemed, as had Myrella from the bodice of her dress.

Lancel, now facing down three weapons from three people willing to kill to survive, stepped back with some fear. " It's Lord Stark.. hehehehehehehe's."

"What Lancel?" Myrcella's voice whipped out soft but imposing with a power he was stunned to hear a child have. "What happened to Lord Stark?"

That her cousin was actually intimidated by an eleven year old child was deeply amusing to Dagmir, but still worry was fierce in his chest.

" Lord Stark was accosted by Lord Jaime, he was seen coming out of Littlefinger's brothel and there was a fight. His household guard managed to fight off the Lannister attackers but after the Goldcloaks stopped the fight but Jaime managed to flee."

Arryn's voice softened and he approached his cousin, placing a hand on the older man's shoulder. "Was Lord Stark or my Uncle injured?"

"No, the guard prevented that. It almost happened, a Lannister guard tried to cut Lord Stark's calf but one of Lord Stark's guards killed him. Lord Stark lost five men, Lord Jaime lost six."

"Damn... damn all of those idiots. We are lucky, Lord Stark is lucky his guard was present... but why was he as a brothel... and why attack... shit... I almost forgot." He turned to his sister and Dagmir swore he saw the wrath of Robert Baratheon in his eyes. "Lady Caitlyn kidnapped Uncle Tyrion. I doubted the validity of the letter when I received it but this would explain it. Uncle Jaime has long been overwhelmed by familial love often to the detriment of duty." Sighing long and loud, he turned to Dagmir. "We need stronger guard for my siblings, I will not have them used as pawns to get back for this. From this point on, Myrcella is your priority not me. At all times will you guard her. You have the fully weight of my power behind you. Lancel, thank you for telling me this. Am I to assume you've accepted my offer?"

"Yes... and... I..." he sighed and stepped forward, whispering something in Arryn's ears. Dagmir didn't hear what it was, only saw the utter fury and fear cross his Lord's eyes.

"Yes... I understand. " Turning back to the new _Smaller Council _as Myrcella was calling them, he spoke. " I am go to hunting with Father in the next hour. Myrcella, continue your studies and think about our discussion. I will be back when father is, it may be two weeks. Dagmir do the same. I will be speaking to the Kennel master before I leave. He is near the stables anyway, might as well get my brother started. I expect you to escort him every day with Myrcella at your side. Lancel, you are staying here. I will speak to father. If Mother asks, tell her it was my idea."

The relief in Lancel's eyes spelled nothing but fear for Dagmir, it was clear that the queen was up to something using Lancel as a tool. What that was, was unclear but the trouble of it was beyond repute.

"Yes, my Lord." They all said in unison... and with that, Arryn and Lancel left, leaving Dagmir with his new Lady.

Said lady turned to him and smiled. " I see why my brother likes you. I hope we can be friends, especially since we are going to spend so much time together... but you need to cast aside your old judgments. If you are to serve my brother judging me as only a little girl, and him as what you thought you knew will help no one. The world as we know it is about to change even if he was never born. Together we can choose how it changes, hopefully for the better.

I pray you can do your part well, but if you cannot open your mind you will be a hindrance or pawn at best."

As if she did not utterly destroy his excepctations, the little girl skipped across the room, settling onto her brother's bed with book in hand, reading diligently and leaving Dagmir to wonder just what he was to think.

_'The world, my world, has already changed... if it is to continue I would rather it be for the better... just how that is to be though... I can only hope she is wrong and I will not hinder it...' _

* * *

**Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews. **

**This was a fun chapter, powerful and great and epic and simple. I loved showing the reactions and minute changes. Renly's jealousy ( a defining quality), Robert's openness, and finally some of Dagmir's thoughts and goals! And proof that being nice can help make allies as seen with Lancel!**

**Showing Dagmir's doubts, fears and the oddness that comes with suddenly having been thrown into a world without preparation... the cost of Arryn so impulsively making him an ally... I am proud to remember that... to remember that he is a person first and then a character. **

**Oh and If you want to know why Stark wasn't hurt, well in the series he lost his guard by giving them the City Watch remember? Twenty of his Household guard and then the rest later to stop Armory and the Mountain. That didn't happen, the first part, so he was fully protected and thus no sneak attack... it went differently!**

**Do you want to see Arryn fight? I want write it if you want to see it!**

**I hope you enjoyed it!**

**Love, your Ninja Overlord, **

**Mika. **


	11. Dreams of Gold and Flowers and Weeds

**I know what I am going to do with Robert, and you will enjoy and love what is to come!**

**Just be patient! Ignorance is bliss in this season, or so I realized while writing this chapter!**

* * *

Myrcella watched carefully, hiding descretly in the servant's entrance of this new training room as Syrio Forel, a short curly haired Bravossi, closed the door and turned on heel with two wooden swords in hand, to walk up to Arya. The girl was distracted, quiet and tired despite her normal boundless energy. Without hesitation, he threw one at Arya, who caught it with ease. The man fell into a dancing stance, a few feet from her.

Arya Stark did not seem impressed, her eyes cold and dark and miserable. "I don't want to practice today." She didn't throw her sword away, but she sounded ready to do so.

Syrio Forel actually seemed moved by her words, though mostly amused enough to get out of his stance. "No?"

"They attacked our household guard, we lost five men! My father is hurt. I don't care about stupid wooden swords."

"You are troubled." He walked towards the girl, his eyes actually filled with sadness for the girl.

"Yes."

To the shock of Myrcella, his sword was shaken in the other girls face. " Good! Trouble is the perfect time for training. When you are dancing in the meadow with your dolls and kittens, this is not when fighting happens."

"I don't like dolls and k...(he swiped her arm with his sword."

Syrio Forel's voice cut out like a sharper sword then he was wielding. "You're not here. You're with your trouble. If you are with your trouble when fighting happens..." He stepped back as she advanced, her sword turning out. She parries, he turned around her sword, to be right in front of her, causing her to fall. "More trouble for you. Just so. How can you be quick as a snake... " For a moment they fought, working around their area from the moment she stood up. "Or as quiet as a shadow... As their swords met again, Syrio disarmed her by taking her sword with his hand and quickly turns to place his and her sword at her neck" When you are somewhere else?" With a rare skill he removes the swords and holds them in one hand. He places his hand on her shoulder" You are fearing for your father. That is right. Do you pray to the Gods?

Arya put her chin out and proudly declared. " The old and the new."

_'Maybe I should pray to the Old Gods, it seems to imbue their people with such courage and faith we simple lack around here. I crave that bravery..." _

_"_There is only one God-" Her focus returned with a razor interest. "-and his name is Death. And there is only one thing we say to Death" As he lifted Arya's chin with a single finger, Myrcella watched with bated breathe. She wanted, she needed the answer. "Not today." He stepped back and made a dancing stance. Arya took her own step back, just in time for his advance.

'_I am glad that she is doing well.' _Stepping away from the hidden servants entrance, Myrcella turned down the tiny hall and made her way towards the exit where Dagmir was waiting for her, his warm beautiful face a welcome sight to her. _'I wish I held a fraction of her strength, so few of us do... you are truly a gem to be envied Arya.' _

Smiling at the larger man, Myrcella wrapped her arm in his. "I do believe it is the perfect time of day to go on a trip through Kingslanding, don't you?"

He nodded, smiling back at her kindly. "I cannot argue with that, my Lady. Everything has been made ready for your trip. I will be guarding you personally, and your typical guard will accompany us."

"Wonderful. Make sure my mother does not find out, that would be the last thing I need." With a flip of her hair, she let the knight lead her away. "I was thinking about my task, what Arryn assigned to me. I have so little experience with the commoners, I know little about what they would find and be receptive too... so I was thinking it would be a better idea to go into the city and see what they need for myself. Ask their opinions and needs. Then I can and will decide." She looked up at the oddly happy knight. " Have you decided what you would like to do?"

"Yes M'lady." His smirk was soft as he leaned down ever so slightly to whisper to her. "I wish, or so is my current idea, to get the Goldcloaks into Shape by training new members and having them serve. They were unable to save eleven people in a single brawl today, a total failure. I also wish to train or assist in the training of a guard for you and your brothers. The Kingsgaurd is a joke, I wouldn't rely on them if I were any of you. I am not amazing by any means but I could defeat all but your Uncle and Ser Barristan Selmy. I think I'll get the squires and other hedgeknights to join us. Maybe recruit some Baseborns or Bastards. People who would be desperate for the opportunities."

**...**

**The sound of wildlife echoing through the woods as the Hunting party of one Robert Baratheon trampled through the woods. They should have been quiet, encouraging the wildlife to come closer and closer to their party so they could kill it. Or at least, that was the idea. Robert Baratheon, rambling about a new story seemed to take precedence, as it always did in his daily life... **

_**'Why couldn't he had died already?'** _

Arryn didn't mean it, he wasn't blind the positives of his father's survival. Namely that Joffrey and their Mother had no real power over the throne besides moments of weakness in Robert. However that didn't mean he couldn't or wasn't tempted, as he was at the moment.

"More wine, your Grace?" Lancel Lannister, to the irritation of Arryn, had been unable to avoid going on the trip. However he had been able to get the boy to dilute the wine with several shots of water, after dumping out a decent portion of it. He almost was willing to pray it was enough.

In his typically cruel fashion, Robert ripped the wineskin from Lancel, downing a heavy portion before all but throwing it back at his poor squire.

"Now what was I saying?"

"Simpler time." Renly, who was accompanying them along side a fully armored and clearly uncomfortable Ser Barristan Selmy, croaked out with a clearly miserable tone.

The lights, one brought about only drink or whores or the remembrance of his past as in this case, returned to the man's eyes. "The enemy was right in the open, vicious as you like, all but sending you a bloody invitation. Nothing like today."

Naturally Renly didn't seem to share his brother's excitement for the past, a taste he should have been accustomed to swallowing. "It sounds exhilarating."

"Exhilarating, yes. Not as exhilarating as those balls and masquerades you like to throw." With this typical lack of empathy, Robert bellowed a laugh that filled the forest with his disdain even as they stepped further and further inside. His callousness knew no bounds as he asked the one thing he knew, and Arryn could tell from the man's cruel eyes that he did in fact know, would ignite pain and temper inside of Renly. " You ever fuck a Riverlands girl?"

" Once. I think. "

"I have, and trust me Renly you'd remember." They all turned to Arryn, who had been keeping quiet for as long as he could. _'I cannot allow further divide, if mother truly means to kill Robert then these two need to be allies for what is to come.'_ Settling a smirk on his face, almost offended, he spoke. " What, I am not blushing virign. I thought I was going to die, so I have been around and about the brothels more then a few times. Made the eight and all of that."

Robert Baratheon, for a rare moment, actually seemed even more proud then when he had stood up to Eddard Stark. "Made the eight, in my time you wouldn't have been considered a man unless you made the Eight."

Renly Baratheon: Those were some lucky girls."

"Yes they were, lots of coin in their pockets to pretending the great Robert's sword didn't bend in the battle." He enjoyed Robert's wide eyes, Renly and Selmy's almost terrified glances at each other. "What, if you can't find it beneath your great belly can you actually say it's getting up. With all that wine." Laughing, without the cruelty he was so wanting to cast at his father, Arryn sent back a playful but mocking grin.

To the surprise of everyone, Robert just laughed, shaking his entire massive belly. " You little shit, with all of the bastards I left in all those bellies I promise you that my sword has never bent in battle." Shaking his head, he turned to Selmy. "You ever make the eight, Barristan?"

Barristan Selmy: I don't believe so, your Grace."

"It seems my fourteen year old son is the only other man among us... Gods those were the days."

They would have covered much more ground, but it was apparently too much for Renly. " Which days, exactly?" Robert turned towards him, anger and caution in his eyes. They all knew why though they said nothing. Simply put, in his current state even Renly, untrained and unseasoned Renly, could defeat Robert in combat. The King was too fat, too drunk, too worn from age and vice to be a threat to anyone. If Renly wanted it, he could have killed him before even Selmy could intervene. "The ones where half of Westeros fought the other half and millions died? Or before that, when the Mad King slaughtered women and babies because the voices in his head told him they deserved it? Or way before that, when dragons burned whole cities to the ground?"

Oddly the words actually seemed to sway Robert, his face wasn't red with rage but instead had an odd calm about it. More a warning then actual anger in his eyes. "Easy, boy. You might be my brother, but you're speaking to the King."

"I suppose it was all rather heroic... If you were drunk enough and had some poor Riverlands whore to shove your prick inside and make the eight." With a look of defiance, he slapped his spear to his other hand and turned to walk away, only to walk into a very done Arryn.

"Enough both of you." He fixed his father with a look that actually held him. "The past was great in parts, but you cannot deny how many suffered for it." Then eh fixed his Uncle with a look that actually seemed to terrify the man. "And you. Seriously? He is your king? That being said what in the modern day does he have to celebrate? His love is dead, he is married to my cunt of a mother, the world is full of arselickers… the past may be all he has at the moment. That being said, Father it is your fault for that part."

"My fault?" Again there was no rage, only warning?"

"You live in your glorious past, you refuse to make the present better. I can think of a bevey of ways to make the present better for you."

Lancel seemed to think this was a good time to leap forward. "More wine, your Gra-" However another look stopped him from all of the others, even Selmy seemed annoyed with him. He stopped, the wineskin torn from him by Arryn who fixed him with something else more empathetic.

"My father has had enough. Your loyalty is kind, your caring is noted but at a hunt you must be careful. Temperance is the name of the came if we do not want our king to fall by a deer, boar or his own spear."

The excuse was perfect, and Lancel nodded leaping onto it with passion and purpose. "Wise words, my Lord Advisor."

"Lord Advisor, I don't think-"

"That's your new title, no in practice any longer." That was Robert, his words heavy but oddly proud. "Your officially a Lord of the Small council. 'Bout time we had someone that could tell me no. We need it. Still just an advisor, you can't Lord over any aspect of Governance but you will be heard in all matters. Now, how do you propose that I make the world better for me? Hmmm?" Though the words were careless, the hope behind them was beyond palpable and potent. A near beg really.

This was the opportunity he was looking for, and being the opportunist he was, Arryn leapt into action without more then a second or third thought. "Well, on a simple level why not get back into your previous shape?" He saw the fear return to his fathers eyes, the same fear that had appeared when they were speaking about his marriages and actually training. Only this time he understood. "Father you would have to work to get into shape and wean off of wine, so you can avoid the tremors. A year at the least, but I can see you doing this. You have the fire for it.

After that you can train others... Ser Barrinstan, the Kingsgaurd could do with some training right?"

The other man, the glorious and powerful knight nodded. "There are few of any merit or skill, mostly they bribe their way on."

"Exactly, a problem you can solve Father. Train them, use you expertise and skill to train them. Your a Knight Father, though you prefer a hammer, you can still use and teach how to use a spear, bow and arrow, sword... a thousand other tools to ensure a legacy worth remembering besides partying and bastards. Hell, maybe you can train my siblings, those cast aside as bastards, make a group of skill warriors since I assume none of my siblings have this haunting illness I have."

There was a moment of silence before Robert slowly nodded. "I'll think about it... what else?"

"Well, you could fight them in spars and combat, yes they would never try to actually hurt you but it would give you a chance to taste and see blood constantly. You wouldn't have to cast so many tournaments and that would save countless coppers we really need. It would also give you a reason to get up every day, other then wine or food. I cannot see Joffrey on the throne yet, he needs more attention and training. I will do my best to guide him but I need you to be on the throne. Putting the crown on a rabid dog before we tame it does not seem wise."

Oddly that somehow made them all laugh, except for a very pale looking Lancel… and, as Arryn would later realize, a very jealous and wrathful looking Renly.

"You are a man on a mission, are you not? Putting your brother and sister through countless lessons, wrangling Joffrey and I, putting Tommen to work under the Kennel Master... what changed?"

There was a silence in which Arryn decided to be honest. "Hope and fear, realizing that I can stay in the shadows and watch the world fall apart or come out hope that I can put it at least slightly back together... and you are not upset that I put Tommen to work?"

They started walking again, the hunt resuming as they spoke softly. "No, the boy needs work. He has no spine, not like I did as that age. Like you have now. If you think it will help, do it. Why the Kennel master though?"

"He loves beasts of all shapes and sizes, that keeps his interests and makes him more apt to pay attention." He sighed then though, shame and pain filling his heart as his secret agenda came out softly. "They have to kill many of the unhealthy beasts, pups too small and kittens sickly... he needs to learn how to take life and accept that not everyone can be saved. That is what I ordered the Kennel master to force him to watch. He will need to gain a spine, even if it will never be as unyielding as ours. I am doing what I can to prepare him, he needs a lot of progress before I try to organize a fostership for him."

"Foster... who?" This was Renly, who looked genuinely confused.

"I want to place Myrcella with the Martells, and I was considering sending my brother to the North. The Mormants are not a large house but they are powerful and do not put up with weakness. We need more connections to the North, not just a Queen. That House, like their Jorah, would be eager for some kind of redemption. This would solidify a massive connection for us. If they are not a suitable option, then House Stark would be a good place for him for a year or so, but only after I send him either to my grandfather or Stannis. I can see both giving him a spine. I am leaning towards Stannis if I am being truthful, I can see him appreciating the position of training my brother. It would satisfy him gravely… or, if my mother allows it, I would send Joff there instead and send my Youngest to the Tyrells. I have time of course but it is a matter of discussion.

If it suits you father, I would call a congress between the Houses for a chance to add their offers of both marriage and Fostership. I think they all can present a case for everything, but I would ask a serious voice in this. You are many things, known for countless things... but you are unfortunately one to allow others to sway you, if only to escape politics. I wish to help in this so my family is set for a glorious future to be remembered and not fade in the dark ages of stories and tall tales like the damned Targaryans are."

"And what of me, dear Nephew?" Renly's words were soft, offended but muted in a way that sent shivers down his spine.

He had to intervene, or at least try. "I, dear Uncle, will need your help on many things. You alone have a rare skill for organizing mass events, dealing with those numbers, and have a rare charisma. I need your help to learn how to commune with larger groups and to get a message across. Never underestimate your value in this Uncle. You are here to do many things, a small part of that is to help me learn. I hope anyway... now enough chatter. I though we were here to hunt? I see boar tracks, this was."

It was a good thing he stopped talking as pain, familiar and agonizing started to burn in his joints.

'_Damn, in my desperation to save my father I forgot my medicine... I may be the one in danger now... fuck!' _

**Renly glared at his nephew, doing his best to ignore the jealousy as it bombarded his soul. '_Two speeches and he holds more sway over Robert then I ever have.' _The words of his lover, pushing him to be king became ever clearer. The knowledge of what he was and could be, the realization that his nephew... '_A dream of nothings, whispered fancies by my lover... he blocks my way even out of the Line of Succession. He could keep Robert alive for years and make Joffrey a puppet king. I cannot believe I never saw it before. _**

**_He acts as if he wants no power and yet collects it with a rare fervency that surpasses even his grandfather. He is not even fifteen and speaks with the skills of an orator twice his age. Damn him.' _**

Restraining his trembling breath, Renly turned his focus to the spear in his hand. How easy it would be to end his problems, he might even blame it on the sickness, the shaking he saw even in the boy's limbs now. He tripped and fell into his weapon, the spear piercing his flesh.

That thought shook him, he almost tripped himself.

_'I cannot believe I just thought that, Kinslaying a child... my nephew... ' _Sweat broke out across his skin, feverish and guilt ridden. '_Monstrous thoughts... besides, I cannot believe he lacks his mothers spite. He would reveal my secrets on his deathbed just to make a point.'_

He almost laughed here, the sound would have only pissed off his brother so he kept it to a low chuckle masked as intake of breathe. Somehow the sound was ignored fully...

Then he saw it. " A Boar, there!" His tone was a whisper, but it took effect. The others, even his nephew fell into a shaky but firm stance. Bow and Arrow curved and ready in hand, a flawless fletching of the arrow aimed to maim or kill. He wasn't sure, but he knew a perfect stance when he saw one, if only thanks to Loras and watching him train for countless hours.

That arrow flew, piercing the beast in the leg. Not a fatal wound but one that would weaken the beast and lower it's chance to escape. The beast snarled, loud and potent it let out a screech, charging towards them as they all flew out of the way.

Robert turned, and with shocking skill rammed his spear into the beast's flank. Selmy followed suit, his sword twisting out to carve a delicate pattern in the beasts opposite side. It screech, kneeling for a moment that allowed Robert to yank out his spear and shove it in the beasts brain straight through it's right eye! It was dead, moments later, a single squeal on it's breath...

They all panted, even Renly who had not participated. The sight of the blood, the reek of new death, it was almost too much. He panted, turning away to mask his disgust.

"This will be delicious. I love boar! So sweat and gamey!" Arryn, in a rare moment of energy, smiled at them all with passion and peace. "How are we getting this back, father? It is massive, almost larger then Lilac!"

Robert laughed, a warm belly laugh that solidified Renly's disdain for his nephew forever. "Good thing we left the horses not that far back, Until then we drag it!"

The two shared a warm laugh, a smile and in that happiness Renly only found despair. Being shoved away by a boy that was all but a stranger to his father not a month before. It was too much for Renly, and his heart closed off entirely from his nephew. Their weak alliance dying as only the urge to surpass and destroy him, to prove his worth over his nephew took hold. A terrifying thought but one he would not ignore.

'_Loras was right. I should be king and if that is to pass, then Arryn cannot stay in power. He already has too much influence... his brother can be my heir, so I do not have to have children... I can do this... I can do this. I will do this.' _

The hearty song of Robert, a deep bass melded with Arryn's tenor as they started to drag the boar away, the baudy tale of a whore going to war. A song of comradery and nasty thoughts that echoed in his newly hallowed heart.

* * *

**From her seat in her Sedan chair, Myrcella did her best not to vomit. Heat and the scent of shit was too much, boiling in her lungs even with her newly comfortable clothes Arryn had created for her. Her hair was in a simple braid, not like what her mother would typically allow. Even her dress was shorter, cutting off at her ankles ( though those were covered by long socks) so she could avoid the shit and dirt. She had a goal in mind and clothing would never come between her and it. **

She had her curtains pulled back so she could take in the sight of her city, really looking at it for the first time. An immediate need came to her mind, one that not even her brother would notice. It hadn't started from a place of compassion however, but a complaint...

'_No gardens, anywhere... no flowers.' _She was so accustomed to the idea, the constant surroundings of beautiful gardens around her that she almost felt lost without them.

"Dagmir… how many gardens do we have in the City?"

That threw the man off, but to his credit he somehow managed to answer her quickly enough. "Not many, a dozen or so in the aristocratic sections if I remember correctly... why?"

Her mind surged, the books her brothers had her reading took hold. "How many herbs are used in healing or food preparation. Herbs and flowers?"

"I cannot answer about the cooking, M'lady… " He paused, his mind going through what he knew about healing. "But a great many herbs are used in healing. Willow bark, though not a flower, is used to ease pain. Milk of the Poppy is used for the same... Garlic is used to alleviate infections and burns if I remember correctly."

She could not help the smile that crossed her face. "Stop here!" The Sedan cart stopped, and she all but threw herself out of the chair, looking around with caution and curiosity. Taking in depth, location and ignoring the commoners bowing to her and offering praise.

Immediately her eyes found a women, one with a basket of some sorts and lots of children. She walked towards her, grabbing coin from her purse and handing it to the women. Coppers only, knowing well enough that a gold dragon would endanger her. Still, the feeling of Dagmir behind her along side her personal guards eased any worry she had.

"My dear, I have a question if you would answer it for me."

The women went red, her body shaking as she tried to bow despite the basket and babe in her arms. "Anything, M'Lady."

"Wonderful... I am thinking about commissioning gardens in local area and I would like your thoughts on them."

The lady seemed a little confused. "It sounds lovely my lady, Sunflowers and roses would be a blessing in this dreary place. Like your personal gardens in the palace, I have always wanted to see them in person. Oh I saw some of them when I was at the Hands tournament just days past!" Weary but kind the women's voice echoed with the same passive arse kissing fear of so many... but still Myrcella appreciated the kindness for what it was.

"Oh those too, of course who would not want a touch of beauty and the scent of roses about, but I was thinking about a communal garden. Winter is coming sooner then we think, and having some herbs for healing and cooking in a communal garden would alleviate your struggles I think. My brother is planning on having many trained in healing. I cannot think of another idea that might help my people flourish in the coming hard times." She smiled, looking at the women, taking in her clothes and drab dirty appearance. " I would also talk to my brother about establishing these gardens right by healing buildings. Perhaps I can also ask him, my Brother Lord Arryn of the Small Council, to pay for those that would take care of the gardens. We would pay handsomely, women would be preferable of course. Healers, especially those with skills in childbirth and care would be welcome..." Impulse took over and with open arms she declared.

"In fact all of you, pass on the message. This will come to pass. If you are interested, I will come back here in three weeks with my brother. We will interview those with the skills we need. Only come if you are serious. We will pay for training and all of that but you must be serious. Am I clear?"

Her words echoed in a silent street before cheers followed suit and with that, Myrcella felt powerful for the first time.

If only she knew how temporary that feeling would end up being...

Or how easily it would or could turn to hate...

Sweet Summer Child...

"Now, please, part so I can pass. I wish to evaluate a few more sights!" Oddly enough they listened and the cheers followed her through the city.

Dagmir, when she turned to him, was pale faced. " You must be more careful my lady. Others could have used that to hurt you... I appreciate admired your candor and kindness, but you must be careful. Please, if you feel the need to speak as such, tell me first... so I can be closer to you."

It was hard not to nod apologetically to the man, his worry adorable as it was kind. "Of course."

* * *

Ned, with exhaustion and wariness, walked into his personal chambers with a heavy heart. The knowledge of his most recent council meeting, knowing what Tywin had allowd Sandor Glegane to do. Mocking his wife's house with their sigil left at places of atrocities… War was coming and Kingslanding was not a place to keep his daughters.

Sansa and Arya, both sitting on his bed with curious and cautious hearts, looked at him expectantly. Only Arya seemed to understand the true depths of the look in his eyes, for she was on the edge with a pained look in hers.

"I'm sending you both back to Winterfell."

Sansa, to no surprise as she had the most to lose, spoke up first. "What?"

"Listen."

"What about Joffrey?"

Arya didn't seem to be as pained, but the loss of her lessions echoed in her eyes. "Is it because of the attack a few days ago? Is that why you're sending us home?"

"In part, yes but not entirely." It was an easy thing to say, seeing how it actually managed to sway his youngest and more stubborn child. "

Or so he thought. " You can't. I've got my lessons with Syrio. I'm finally getting good."

It was hard not beg them, to get them to understand.. .pity they were so young. "This isn't a punishment."He kept his tone low, soft and sweet as he pleaded to his beloved children. "I want you back for your own safety."

Arya, single minded as usual, just sighed. " Can we take Syrio back with us?"

" Who cares about your stupid dancing teacher? Girls aren't supposed to learn how to fight." Sansa's snarl, the cruelty in her voice alarmed Ned as he wondered if the South had tainted his daughter. " I can't go. I'm supposed to marry Prince Joffrey. I love him and I'm meant to be his Queen and have his babies."

Speaking as if through his mouth, Arya spoke the words he was not brave enough to say. "Seven hells."

" When you're old enough, I'll make you a match with someone who's worthy of you, someone brave, gentle and strong... "

Sansa was not having that. " I don't want someone brave, gentle and strong. I want him!" Somehow she did not realize it, but his daughter spoke the truth of Joffrey, of his lack of anything deemable. Arya noticed it, chuckling lightly. The insult to the brat prince was enough that Ned had to look down, masking his laughter and smile. " He'll be the greatest King that ever was, a golden lion, and I'll give him sons with beautiful blond hair." Her words were like a spark, triggering the fires within as he contemplated her words.

The visages of each of the royal children came to mind.

His youngest snorted. "The lion's not his sigil, idiot. He's a stag, like his father."

"He is not. He's nothing like that old drunk King." Her hatred of his old friend aside, no matter how much it pained him, her words and their meaning acted as the final straw. Everything started to settle in place.

"Go on girls, get your Septa and start packing your things."

Ned turned away and walking towards his desk where a very special book lay.

Sansa almost screamed. "Wait!"

Her sister grabbed her arm, show casing how much stronger she had gotten as she pulled her away. "Come on."

Despite being taller and a little heavier, Sansa could not fight back. "But it's not fair!"

Finally with a silent room, Ned sat on a chair and opened the book on his desk, The Lineages of The Great Houses of Westeros. A book he had been given my Maester Pycelle weeks before. A book that had meant so little before, despite being the last thing Jon Arryn had ever looked at before he died. Until now that was.

Turning a few pages before stopping at House Baratheon, and so Eddard Stark began to read and allowed everything to fully settle into place. Understanding and fear and doubt melding into one as he spoke. "Lord Orys Baratheon, black of hair. Axel Baratheon, black of hair. Lyonel Baratheon, black of hair. Steffon Baratheon, black of hair. Robert Baratheon, black of hair. Joffrey Baratheon... Golden-head."

He looked up, imagining each and ever one of the royal children.

Joffrey, cold and unyielding, marks of insanity and vileness apparent with any threat to his power. The lack of intelligence in his eyes, so similar to those most affected by the Targaryen tendency to breed within their bloodline. The weak frame, small body and lack of combative skills.

Beautiful Myrcella, tall and strong for her age and gender. Beautiful golden curls and green eyes, perfect skin and a delicate beauty that matched none of the wildness that came with being a Baratheon. She was not bulky or thick, but sharp and strong like a willow branch.

Tommen, small for his age with a delicate heart and passive voice. Green eyes and golden hair that edged on a sandy color, features identical to a young Tywins. Nothing of Robert in him...

Arryn, tall even for a Lannister with an intellect and cold fire that matched his vile grandfather. An orator that could sway even Robert's temper, a dedication and repulsion for wine that seemed too intelligent for a child though none noticed it. His loathing of Robert, his willingness to use him instead of brute force. The sweet soft whispering of a Lion before it prey, not the mindless charge of the Baratheons. His weakness and illness, something seen before in the Targaryens due to their long history of interbreeding, a trait that appeared in the Southern families that bred with them over the years.

The soft beauty they all held, so much like Cersei...

"And Jaime..." Eyes more Jaime's green then Cerseis. Hair more curled like his then waved like Cersei's... lips almost all identical to his. "He is their father... and Arryn's affection for him... he knows."

* * *

**Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews. **

**This was shorter then normal but powerful and fun and I loved it. Myrcella's dreams, her charity is in character! She has gardens in the series, I cannot see her not working in them or having them be a source of inspiration. She is harder to write, as there is so little on her, but that makes it a fun challenge!  
**

**So many goals despite the dangers to come... so much fun, a tipping point where success will not be so less possible! I love it! This is going to be epic! This is what I have been waiting for!  
**

**Love, your Ninja Overlord, **

**Mika!**


	12. Back at the Castle (Least Favorite Chap)

**I wasn't going to show the scene where Tywin and Jaime speak in the tent but it was too powerful and something changed so the scene had to change a little... then I had to add to it... **

**This took so long as it is a hard chapter to change, It was so epic in the series... **

**P.S. In the distant future I might write a very OC story with the child of a god/goddess... and start around season three or something... **

**I know a real life Joffrey and his dependency on another is what I am using for this version of Joff… **

* * *

Joffrey nerves held strong as he _ walked into the Stark quarters without so much as announcement of his presence drew their attention. Sansa's eyes lit up, beautiful and naïve even as she stood with the Septa. No matter his thought towards her, he was not blind to her beauty. She brushed the front of her dress, eager and desperate to seem even more perfect then she already was. The Septa seemed charmed but she stood fast. _

_It was clear from her eyes that She didn't like the prince. " My prince!" Was all she said before bowing low then sitting back down, watching carefully as Joffrey approached Sansa._

_"My prince." Sansa's words were soft and sweet._

_The prince wasn't impressed, having been around Southern Ladies since birth but he made his face into something close. " My lady." Bowing low, he even turned and bowed towards Mordane to her surprise. " I fear I have behaved monstrously the past few weeks." With one hand, he held up a beautiful necklace, the one his mother had suggested " With your permission?" As Sansa turned around, accepting his gift, he placed it around her neck. "I was speaking to my sister, Myrcella, she scolded me quite fiercely for my rudeness and opened my eyes. I am afraid my social skills could use some works, especially with women. I am unaccustomed and I beg your forgiveness."_

_Sansa actually gasped, holding the necklace delicately. " It's beautiful. Like the one your mother wears."_

_"You'll be queen one day. It's only fitting that you should look the part." He sighed here before kneeling before the girl, eyes wide and soft. "Will you forgive me for my rudeness? And my actions on the road?"_

_"There's nothing to forgive." _

_He agreed, but her words were not what he needed. He needed her faith in him, for that would give him what he truely needed in the end. _

_"You're my lady. One day we'll be married in the throne room... "Sansa's smile was radiant. "Lords and ladies from all over the Seven Kingdoms will come, from the Last Hearth in the North, to the Salt Shore of the South. And you will be queen over all of them... and when that happens, I want my life and yours to be better then what my Mother and Father have. I will never have affairs as he does, I lack his lust but I fear that I have inherited his temperament in terms of temper and offense. My mother's as well. I refuse to be them, they have brought great shame and I refuse to do that to you. I'll never disrespect you again. I'll never be cruel to you again. Do you understand me? "He lovingly touches her face before stepping back, eyes soft. You're my lady now. From this day, until my last day."_

_He then kissed her... _

**Joffrey had wanted to scream, his words and the propriety disgusted him but he was not blind to their power. His mother had tried to teach him before but it was his brother, watching how easily people swayed to his words that had shifted his actions. That and his sister, who had caught him moments before he entered the Stark Quarters. **

Her eyes were fierce and he had been tempted to shove her away, but her words held him fast as she spoke like Arryn so often did. He had to listen to her.

"_Woo her, brother, but act contrite. You saw how father hated how you acted on the road, but you saw how she hated how father acts in general. Use that as a tool, to make her love you. Put the blame on them and you will have her. I know Mother and I know she would have tried to get you to forgive you, do more. Get her loyalty, before mother can steal it from you. Make her love you, not just your position." _

He hadn't wanted to listen but the backlash from his actions on the road were too many to ignore. He knew he should have listened to his brother before, Arryn rarely led him wrong in the past.

'_What do you suggest, sister? Do you speak for Arryn?" _

She had smiled at him, and he saw Arryn in her eyes for a moment. "_For him but also as a girl, I know what girls like and what she likes. Make her love you and you will have her. She hates father and mother, use that and join in her loathing and that will make her identifiy with you. Make her want to follow you against them. You will want her loyalty in the future, she will be your greatest ally aside from Arryn and I and you know it. Your a smart boy Joffrey." _

He could have ignored her council, but he chose not too. She was close to Arryn and her words were not too different then Mother's, he would obey her in this...

Which he did and it worked! His skin had crawled as he insulted himself and his father, but it played well. Naturally, he had made a point to avoid his sister, unhappy with how easily she could get him to sway others, but he needed more help and so he approached her room, nodding to her bowing guard.

"I wish to speak to my sister, in private."

The Guard paused for a moment. " I was ordered by your father and brother to watch over her at all times, and never be far while your brother is hunting. I cannot allow you to be totally alone, my prince, but I can swear that what is said will never pass my lips. I know the power of secrecy, your brother plays upon it's importance often."

Unhappy that he was not obeyed but understanding that the orders of those two trumped his power, he nodded. " Very well. Should a word pass and you will find yourself without a head."

"Of course, your grace." Bowing again, the red haired Knight turned and knocked upon the door. "Lady Myrcella, you have a visitor."

Her voice drifted through the door. "Who is it, Dagmir?"

"Prince Joffrey."

There was a moment of silence, before the girl spoke again, this time at the door with their younger brother at her side. She gave Joffrey a cold look, one that reminded him a lot of their mother. "Come in brother. Tommen was just going." She kneeled as he passed them both, turning to their brother as she brushed aside his hair. "Go and read your books. I will be testing you later for Arryn."

He watched, disgusted as she kissed his forehead.

"You act the part of a mother well, sister."

With more courage then he believed she had, she turned to him. "With a mother like ours, someone has too... now, I am sure you are here for more then a social visit. What is it, brother?"

Angered with her lack of fear, he somehow managed to sit back and sigh. "Your ideas came in handy... I wanted to see if you had more suggestions."

**Myrcella was not in the mood to see her brother, she had just spent an hour reassuring her young brother that it was not okay to hit your wife no matter the reason. That their father was in fact a beast and that his actions were wrong. The urge to strike her father down, to put her more recent skill in combat, little as it was, against him was difficult to ignore. **

Still, one did not merely ignore her brother and so she settled into her own seat across from it. "What did you mean dear brother?"

His scowl was a powerful thing, filled with a wrath she knew all too well. "Your suggestion, to prostrate myself to the Stark girl... it worked better then what mother have suggested. I have the girl fully in my pocket... how did you know to do that? Why did you tell me, I know you hate me?"

The words were hard to digest and she almost shuddered at the risk of her words. '_Don't let me have stepped in too deep, I am sorry for rushing so forwardly Arryn but I saw a path of change and I went for it...' _Gulping, she fixed a confident smile on her face. "Mother expects everyone to love her because it is her right to be loved. That won't work if she continues to make enemies. I saw the divide between father and Lord Stark, I wanted you to gain control over the Stark girl before that bond and thus your engagement vanished. Mother would have had you eventually become cruel and capricious, as is her nature. I wanted you to be smarter then mother and make a better choice."

A lie in it's own right she knew the real reason.

_'I saw how Arryn was changing Tommen and I, and I thought I could change you too... make you stop being so monstrous. A risk he may punish me for later.' _

A punishment she would embrace, knowing how foolish her actions were. Joffrey's temperament could have resulted in her death, especially with his hatred for being told what to do and low opinion of women. She could and would have suffered had she made the slightest misstep.

"I underestimated you, sister... Arryn has been teaching you, hasn't he."

She nodded. "Of course, and I know he wants to help you become a great king Joffrey."

"I need him... " Joffrey turned away, his eyes oddly wet. "I think better when he is around, when he tells me to do something it works well and I do better. Father noticed me in the North, approved of my actions and told me I was shaping into a better man. He even got father to take him and only him on a hunt, he never takes me alone only with a massive crowd of people. I want that, how does he get father to notice him." He gulped then, anger filling his eyes. "Do not repeat that."

"I would never brother." She drank in his words though, knowing that Arryn would love to hear them. "If you want his aid over our Mothers, then speak to him. He will never shame you or make you feel lesser for asking for aid brother... but you won't because of Mother, will you?"

Somehow that made Joffrey almost sad, or whatever he felt instead of sadness. It seemed a mix of confusion and pain. "Mother has been trying to keep me away from Arryn. Whenever I mention seeing him she changes the subject."

'_Mother already lost control over us, of course she wouldn't want to lose her crown prince.' _Smiling, she reached out and grabbed his hand. "Let me deal with her. I am sure I can distract her long enough for you and Arryn to have a little chat."

"Do that, sister."

He said it like an order but they both knew she was the one in charge of the conversation... and only she seemed to be satisfied by that.

* * *

The Riverlands filled with the sounds of trumpets as the Lannister forces gathered. Tents of red and gold covered the valley sides, regal and powerful as those within. One tent in particular stood out and it was in this tent that Jaime Lannister, garbed in fully regalia and armor, read out a very special letter, one crafted by the Lord Hand Eddard Stark.

"... summoned to court to answer for the crimes of your bannerman Gregor Clegane, the Mountain...arrive within the fortnight or be branded an enemy of the Crown..."Jaime all but laughed at the man. "Poor Ned Stark. Brave man, terrible judgment.

Tywin, father of Jaime and Lord Head of the Lannisters, turned to his son with disdain in his eyes. "Attacking him was stupid." As if to add potency to his words, he quickly began to skin the deer that would become his dinner. "Lannisters don't act like fools." The belly cut open, he pulled out it's intenstines just as Jaime opened his mouth to say something clever. "Are you gonna say something clever? Go on, say something clever."

The taunt, the dare was clear, a blind man could have seen it.

Jaime only spoke softly. " Catelyn Stark took my brother."

"Why is he still alive?"

"Tyrion?

"Ned Stark."

Shame over took Jaimie for a moment. "He is far better then I anticipated, he never has joined tourney nor sparred while in Kingslanding. I never expected so much skill from someone so old."

A snort passed his father's lips. "Old... the man is barely in his forties, barely older then you are. Old, the blood of the Wolf is strong. Their House has long produced powerful warriors. No, it was arrogance that stopped your blade and stalled your actions. You are too accustomed to fighting the weak and worthless, like the Mad King." He must have cringed, for his father looked at him with some disgust. " When you hear them whispering "Kingslayer" behind your back, it bothers you doesn't it."

He didn't bother to hide his resentment. " Of course it bothers me."

"The lion doesn't concern himself with the opinions of the sheep. I should be grateful that your arrogance beats beat your pride, less this war be against even the crown. I'm giving you half of our forces - 30,000 men. You will bring them to Catelyn Stark's girlhood home and remind her that Lannisters pay their debts."

He almost laughed, the notion of his father putting forth so much energy into saving his brother was almost laughable. " I didn't realize you placed such a high value on my brother's life." He hated that such a thought was true.

He hated that his father actually laughed at that. "He's a Lannister. He might be the lowest of the Lannisters, but he's one of us. And every day that he remains a prisoner, the less our name commands respect."

"So the lion _does_ concern himself with the opinions of -"

Tywin, with great authority rang out. " No, it's _not_ an opinion, it's a _fact_!" His wrath was strong, so strong that it halted his movements. " If another House can seize one of our own and hold him captive with impunity, we are no longer a House to be feared." They shared a look, one of understanding and pain before he started skinning the deer once more. "Your mother's dead. Before long, I'll be dead. And you, and your brother, and your sister and all of her children. All of us dead, all of us rotting in the ground. It's the family name that lives on. It's _all_ that lives on. Not your personal glory, not your honor, but family. Do you understand?"

That his father seemed skeptical of his understanding pained him.

"Hmmm..." he said while cleaning his bloody hands. " You're blessed with abilities that few men possess. You are blessed to belong to the most powerful family in the kingdoms. And you are still blessed with youth. And what have you done with these blessings, huh? You've served as a glorified bodyguard for two kings - one a madman, the other a drunk. The future of our family will be determined in these next few months. We could establish a dynasty that will last a thousand years...or we could collapse into nothing, as the Targaryens did. " His cold hands reached out, grasping Jaime's face in an act that reminded him of Arryn and how he controlled Joffrey time after time. "I need you to become the man you were always meant to be. Not next year. Not tomorrow. _Now." _

**Sighing, Tywin turned from his son as he parted from the tent. '_Foolish boy, wasting his potential. Pity... at least one of my grandchildren is competent.' _Quickly finishing his work on the deer, he slowly walked towards his desk and pulled out a letter, one that had just arrived. He had already read it once before, but like with all letters he enjoyed reading it over and over again, draining it's cotents more purely. Being that it was from Pycelle, who insisted on writing with flowery lanaguge meant to praise and primp the letter's importance it often took several reads just to get the needed information from the weeds of worthless arse licking. **

_**My Lord Lannister, a great many things have happened in the capital. I fear war is on the horizon and not just to the unprovoked and needless act of kidnapping your son Tyrion. Your daughter, in an act of betrayal and wrath, has commissioned Lancel Lannister to ply Robert with a heavy wine. Heavy enough so that during his most recent hunt, he will die by the talents of a beast or his own spear.**_

"Creative, I cannot deny that few would question this give his being a drunk."

_**Arryn has been forced onto this trip along side his father, who now wants to bond with his son. During our most recent council meeting, your grandchild actually agreed to the slaughter of Daenerys Targaryen, speaking with a rare talent in oration that I have yet to come across past or present. It was incredible and with his words, invoking the memories of the Ninepenny wars and House Blackfyre, he backed Lord Stark into a corner forcing even that stubborn man to consider that he may be right in the need to slaughter the young girl. An ugly task he made seemed necessary and even right. **_

**_He holds his father firmly in his hand now._**

This brought a smile to Tywin's face, pride moving past his hate and irritation with the flowery language. "A wise investment indeed, I do not think I will live to regret this." The thought of Robert listening to his sickly son, obeying his words like that of his Lord was something that stuck wonderfully in the old Lannister. "I cannot wait to meet my Grandson, he may indeed be my new heir."

It was clear that Jaime may forever lack interest in such a position, his grandson may be his only option.

_**This was not his only act of merit. Through some convincing, he stole full control over Myrcella and Tommen from your daughter's control including their education and marriage. He totally restructured their education and added new dimensions of political training and history to them. I know not their fullest shift but I do know that Tommen is now working under the Kennelmaster in an attempt to teach the boy responsibility and the ability to handle hard choices such as putting a beast to death. Though Arryn has not returned, having been gone a week already, I foresee that he would be quite happy with the results. Tommen has seen a drastic change, losing his crippling shyness and becoming more forth coming.**_

Tywin's hands actually shook with this piece of news, his eyes prickling with tears as he considered the future. '_Finally, it does not seem bleak. Not only is he controlling his idiot father and mother, but he is putting his siblings into positions to better then even without his presence. As I did with Keven. It would not do for Tommen to be under the sway of his mother, another Joffrey is not what we need. Such a beast or worse, a weakling, would only destroy our legacy.'  
_

Content he turned back to the letter.

_**Myrcella has had a greater transformation, taking an active role in the castle and community. She has sat in on what Robert refers to complaint day, wherein you received the letter revolving around your summons to the capital. She has also visited the town many times, evaluating and making sketches of the town in great detail. It seems she is actually quite the artist. She uses these sketches to, in her words, organize projects such as establishing Glasshouses for more farm land in the capital, herbal gardens for any coming war or rebellion, and having her ladies in waiting work on crafting clothes for the children in local orphanages. Already she had completed and had delivered more then two dozen sets of clothing, from trousers and upper shirts to hats and socks, her mother was quite displeased but when she protested Myrcella in no uncertain terms told her that she spoke with the authority of her brother, the new Advisor to the Council. That stopped and angered Cersei greatly but she refrained from any retaliation towards her daughter, settling for screaming at me for a near hour before asking for you to command such an action to stop.**_

It was hard not to laugh. "Even a child understands why my children do not. Control the lower class, through fear and admiration, and you control the world... foolish daughter, what your child is doing may be foolish but it is to gain control over the Baseborn and I cannot forbid that." He did not like that she was helping the base born, however, it left a horrible taste in his mouth but he was not blind to the wisdom behind such an act. "There is too much ill will towards the crown, such projects may be expensive but they would garner support that is vital in a war."

_**I also witness your granddaughter actively and effectively counseling and calming Joffrey, and to my shock the boy listened to her with great effect. He seems to see her, though with some disdain, as a source of wisdom for the time being. I do not know when this started, but it has calmed the boy and his more dark qualities. He has not harmed a living creature in the week since I started writing this. It feels a good sign for your House, my Lord. **_

_**Your grandson has also, according to those in hiding, his sworn sword to find and train those worthy for better protection. Given the poor standards of most nights, I cannot disagree with this. I do know that your grandson may also start training once again, something he has not done in months due to council meetings and the trip the North. **_

The Letter went on for several more paragraphs, annoying him with it's pointlessness but eventually it ended with more reassurance of loyalty and honor to House Lannister.

"It seems that I do not have to worry so much about Kingslanding, this is good... I will send a letter for my grandson and daughter. Maybe one for Myrcella, she seems more competent then her Mother at any rate."

With that he quickly began to write down, wanting his letters to reach Kingslanding so he could focus more fully on the possible war ahead.

* * *

The beautiful gardens of Myrcella always left Cersei smiling, the reminder of her daughter was impossibly uplifting despite their recent spat. Her beauty, coming strong in all of her features, and her bright mind was a balm to Cersei's weary soul. Her passion eased her fears that a man would control her daughter one day, and it was with this joy that Cersei came across the one she searched for, Ned Stark dressed once again in his hot leather Northern outfit, having cast aside her son's kind offering of more practical clothing.

"You seem unhappy." She kept her words curt, smiling softly at the man before her.

Ned Stark was curt. "I'll endure, my lady."

"Perhaps it's time to go home. The South doesn't seem to agree with you."

Without warning, the man before her spoke with soft passion. " I know the truth Jon Arryn died for.

Despite the pain and fear his words brought She smiled, turning to a flower to her right, breathing in the beauty and warmth of it. "My daughter asked for these gardens to be planted, do you know this? It was one of the few times Arryn showed passion in his youth, he begged me day and night to make it happen. I would have done so regardless, but when he fell sick I ordered them to be planted and then walked him through them the moment they bloomed, fearing he would die before then... it was uplifting to my soul, I carried that moment with me through years. Things like this, " She gestured to the bruise on her face, from when her husband smacked her for disrespecting him so violently. ", meant nothing with it."

"Has he done it often?"

"Jaime would have killed him. My brother is worth a thousand of your friend." She stopped for a moment, then smiled. " Arryn would have done worse, and so would have Myrcella." Her daughter's recent passion made that clear, she saw the wrath in her daughter's eyes when she saw the bruise. How she collected Tommen and left the room, eyes filled with worry and wrath. She had heard her, educating Tommen on never hitting his wife in the future... and knew that he had heard her. "My children are quiet loyal, as is my brother."

"Your brother or your lover."

She could not mask her smirk, proud to shed off the vestiges of lies for once and embrace the beauty that was her reality. " The Targaryens wed brothers and sisters for 300 years to keep bloodlines pure. Jaime and I are more than brother and sister. We shared a womb. We came into this world together. We belong together."

Her words angered Ned Stark, his eyes darkening her. " My son saw you with him.

There was a long pause, and she felt the weight her and Jaime's misdeeds in them._ "_Do you love your children?"

"With all my heart." And she believed him, having seen it in his eyes since she entered the North for the first time.

"No more than I love mine."

"And they're all Jaime's."

He said the words like they were a crime, the most vile of things.

She laughed at his words, a mockery of kindness. "Thank the Gods. In the rare event that Robert leaves his whores for long enough to stumble drunk into my bed, I finish him off in other ways. In the morning, he doesn't remember."

"You've always hated him..."

Her mind almost shattered under the weight of his judgment and words spilled form her lips like warm honey in the summer son. " Hated him? I _worshiped_ him! Every girl in the Seven Kingdoms dreamed of him, but he was mine by oath. And when I finally saw him on our wedding day in the Sept of Baelor, lean and fierce and black-bearded, it was the happiest moment of my life. Then that night he crawled on top of me, stinking of wine and did what he did, what little he could do, and whispered in my ear, "Lyanna". Your sister was a corpse and I was a living girl and he loved her more than me."

Nothing the cold warden of the North was unmoved. "When the King returns from his hunt, I'll tell him the truth. You must be gone by then - you _and_ your children. I will _not_ have their blood on my hands. Go as far away as you can, with as many men as you can. Because wherever you go, Robert's wrath will follow you."

"You'd accuse me of a being a monster for what happened to your son and yet you so readily threaten all of my children, me for choosing a man who loves and honors me instead of a beast who fucks anything with tits... my son is right, you are a hypocrite Lord Stark. You use Honor as a tool to masquerade your weakness. Worry about my wrath, Lord Stark, for I promise you that the wrath of a mother eclipses anything that pitiful man can muster. "

Turning away, she marched out of the Gardens, only to stop for a moment.

"I warn you, Lord Stark, should anything happen to my children and you will never see any of yours again." Her eyes turned to meet his and she ceased mincing words. "In the Game of Thrones, you Win or you die. There is no middle ground and I will win. What does that say about you?"

* * *

**Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews. **

**This was a boring chapter to write to be honest because it is so perfect on it's own but there had to be some blunter converasations about Arryn... I don't want him to be an OC but he has made a lot of waves. Thankfully now that people are getting used to that it won't continue too much. Sorry if it was getting old, people see him as a full player now... This chapter, I am glad it is over as it leads to much better and more fun chapters. Arryn only could influence so many parts of it... Ned isn't injured but Cersei still got hit. Tyrion is kidnapped but Tywin is not worried about Kinglanding so he may not send Tyrion there ( not too sure yet) immediately...Jaime has children that acknowledge him so he has more reason to fight... **

**I hope you are enjoying this, sorry about the Delays!**

**There are a lot of little changes... **

**Love, your Ninja Overlord, **

**Mika. **


	13. Roll with the Waves

**I AM BACK!**

**I was so stuck on this chapter, and refused to do it poorly, **

**So I stopped writing this to my detriment. I missed this so badly. **

**I figured it out! I know what I want to do! To make this work. **

**Thanks to my therapist oddly enough and a specific quote from Varys about Robert's potentail death at Cersei's hand... I also realized that Arryn can't always change the outcomes, he has to roll with the punches... and that is what motivated me. **

* * *

Blood, blood and the stench of death. Arryn would have gagged on the sight of it had he not been covered in it, still desperate to save the life of his father's life. His hands ached, his arm muscles sore from pressing harshly on his father's bleeding wound. Fingers pressing bandages around the arrow sticking out of his father's torso. Blood dripped everywhere, soaking into the soft leather of his handmade hunting clothes. Slippery and warm, a balm to his weary and cold skin despite everything.

A reminder of the horror that greeted their royal train as they returned to the castle...

When his father, the druken fool he was, high on pride and satisfied bloodlust, never noticed the archer until the arrow was buried into his chest, digging into his lungs...

His mother had let out a harsh shriek when she saw him first, his sister and Tommen doing the same. Joffrey, the most openly vulgar and loud of them, was oddly silent and just wept with the most horrified expression. Arryn wanted to comfort them all, but the shock, the fear and the feeling of blood cooling on his skin left him unable to muster the energy to help them. To hold them all, even Joffrey, to reassure himself they were safe.

The door to his father's chambers burst open, revealing a livid and afraid Ned Stark. "What happened?" He said, his voice commanding as only a Lord could manage.

Slowly, Arryn turned to the man and ignored his dislike entirely. "When we returned from the Hunt, Father... he was celebrating, excited for my first successful Hunt with him. We slew a boar, none of us noticed the archer... a man, who shot my father in the chest just as we passed the first gate." The words sounded dull to him, void of the weight of their conviction and purpose. The power they held, making Joffrey the soon to be king.

Grand Maester Pycelle all but barked, his mummers act entirely up as he cursed. "May the man rot for his crimes against out king. He committed suicide before he could be apprehended. A cowards way out." He sighed, looking at the barely conscious king, his skin pasty white except for the blood oozing from his wound. "I have done all I can, but I am afraid this is beyond my skill."

Ser Barristan Selmy nodded, devastation clear in his eyes as he looked at his king. The second king he has seen fall under his care... Arryn couldn't imagine his pain, the shame that came from his failure not matter the fact that there was no way he could have saved Robert's life.

Robert, barely able to see the room, turned to Joffrey and squeezed his hand. "I should have spent more time with you, shown you how to be a man. I was never meant to be a father." Somehow he managed to look up, seeing Ned through the blur of weakness. " Go on. You don't want to see this." He said the Joffrey, who reluctantly left.

Arryn nodded to his other siblings, and they too departed, going with Dagmir who stood just outside the doors waiting for them.

"My fault..."Robert laughed weakly, looking at Ned with joy. "If I was half the warrior I once was, I would have noticed the archer a mile away. I would be able to fight this. I failed myself, none of you are at fault. Especially not you Arryn." He turned to his false son, his face in rare contrition. "You shouldn't have had to do that, to fight to keep me alive." He quieted as Ned approached, lifting his blanket, where he saw the horrible wound. "It stinks. It stinks like death. Don't think I can't smell it. Now leave us, the lot of you. I need to talk to Ned."

Cersei, in a rare moment of empathy, all but whispered. " Robert, my sweet -"

"Out, all of you!" Robert bellowed, sapping him of the rest of his strength.

With obedience and sadness, the rest of them including Arryn left, leaving a big part of his life beyond for what he knew was the final time."

Ned

With great annoyance, and pain, Ned turned to chew out his friend. "You damned fool..."

"Paper and ink on the table, write down what I say." Ned obeyed his king, grabbing paper and ink and started to write. "In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, first of... you know how it goes. Fill in the damn titles. I hereby command Eddard of House Stark" - titles, titles - "to serve as Lord Regent and Protector of the Realm upon my death to rule in my stead, until my son Joffrey comes of age". The moment of truth, and Ned only hesitates for a moment, then writes "my rightful heir" instead. Give it over. Ned does so. Robert puts his signature down on the letter before handing it back. Give it to the council after I'm dead. At least they'll say I did _this_ right, this one thing. You'll rule now. You'll hate it worse than I did, but you'll do it well."

"I will."

"And my son...help him, Ned. Make him better than me. Help Arryn, you may disagree but you need him. He's wiser then his years, he had command over the council already, people respect him. He wants to help Joffrey and the people, he told me of all his plans during the Hunt. You need him... Please, don't be like me and

Ned hesitated, the mere notion of helping Arryn with anything turned his stomach. : I'll...I'll do everything I can to honor your memory.

"My memory?" He laughs feebly_**.**"_ Give me something for the pain and let me die."

With a heavy heart, Ned left the chambers, which is being guarded by two other Kingsguards. Barristan and the rest of the council bar Arryn were all waiting expectantly for him.

Ned turned to Pycelle. "Give him milk of the poppy." Pycelle and Renly moved into the room immediately afterward, ready to drug the king and ease his passage into death.

Barristan let out a shaking breathe. " He was happy, by the gods he was happy for the first time in almost two decades. I have never seen him like that, so much pride, so much pleasure beyond just whoring and hunting. Arryn brought out a better man in him, I know that to be true. The boy will need guidance, the death hit him hard. He fought harder then all of us to Keep his father alive. He tore his own clothes to make bandages, pressed onto the wound, fought with all he had and ordered us when we were too frazzled."

For the first time since the explosive council meeting, he felt a moment of care for the boy. Then, realizing he had a chance, he turned to Varys. "His Grace has had a change of heart concerning Daenerys Targaryen. Whatever arrangements you made, unmake them. At once."

Varys shook his head. "I'm afraid those birds have flown. The girl is likely dead already."

"""

**Arryn**

With shaking hands, Arryn tore off his clothes, not caring that his mother was behind him. He shed it all, tossing it to one side he hurried to his wardrobe desperate to no longer be covered in blood. As per usual, he had a bowl of water on the side of his room and quickly cleaned him self off while she spoke.

"My son... are you... how... how are you handling this?"

He didn't speak for a moment, desperately scrubbing to get the blood off, before turning to her with the coldest expression he could muster. "I know about the wine, and Lancel. He is an easy pawn to read, I picked that out in minutes. Swapped the wine for water, stopped Robert from drinking. Joff isn't ready for rulership, won't be for some time. What you were doing was foolish, but deserved. I heard, from Lancel, he hit you... your still bruised... I get your desires, I understand them on some level." He stopped talking before finally tossing on trousers and a light shirt. "You have doomed us to a moron, a tyrant, the second coming of the Mad king. A boy who skinned cats and beat children with sticks and bullies everyone he can. That is what you put in the throne. I know you had something to do with this, mother, I know the archer was your doing.

I cannot prove it, nor do I entirely want to, but I know it was you... but I will not hate you for this."

She almost jumped at his words. "Why?"

"He was a monster to you, cruel and capricious and methodical in his mistreatment. He was your enemy and you do not suffer enemies to live. That is who you are, I know that enough." Sighing, he turned all of the way and looked at her in her eyes. He could see the guilt, the shame, the pride but beyond all else the pleasure in knowing her husband was dead. "We must plan now, to ensure my brother is not the monster we know he can be. I will still be on the council, I will still have say. Robert's death will not rob me of that, nor will you as Queen Regent. We will help each other, but we must present a united front. Ned hates me, to counter him we will need to be together. Are you will me?"

Her smile was radiant as it was soft. "I have always been with you, my love." She reached out and pulled him into her chest. " Always and forever... and you are right." She whispered." I killed him, you were too clever for the wine to work so I had the archer do it. He has a bastard in my service, no one knows she is his. I promised to keep her in her place, where she thrives, so long as he does this service."

"Keep your word, Mother. In this at least... now, how shall we precede?"

As his mother spoke, whispering her words of deceit and falsehoods, Arryn made a vow of his own.

'_Drink deep and despair mother, for I warned you. I will cut you off of all power and leave you with nothing. Your actions will doom us all, putting my moron of a brother on the throne... you will destroy us all for power, well too bad for you. I will stand against you, always and forever. I will control Joffrey myself, I cannot stop his rising but I can control our fall. We will land safely, for that is my vow.' _

'''''

**Ned Stark**

_With hesitation and greater strength then he thought he had, Ned Stark walked into the throne room with his head held high. He was ready to fight, to do what he needed to, to ensure all went as he planned. He had Petyr Baelish get the Gold Cloaks on his side, he had had Robert's note signed by his hand... he would prevail. _

_As he walked in, his eyes were cast to see Joffrey arrogantly sitting on the throne, With his Mother, Arryn and the Hound on either side of him. Arryn and the Hound were armed. Five members of the Kingsguard, led by Barristan Selmy, were standing before the throne. _

The Royal Steward, with all the pomp and circumstance he was able, proclaimed. "All hail His Grace, Joffrey of Houses Baratheon and Lannister, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.

_Finally, after walking for what felt like an hour, Ned and his guard made their way to the Throne. _

Looking down at him, Joffrey the Bastard, spoke. "I command the council to make all necessary arrangements for my coronation. I wish to be crowned within the fortnight. Today I shall accept oaths of fealty from my loyal councilors."

_Ned's eyes met with Cersei, their earlier confrontation clear in each other's mind. "_Ser Barristan, I believe no man here could ever question your honor." he handed the man the scroll, written by his hand and signed by Robert Baratheon

_Ser Barristan turned to Cersei. "_King Robert's seal. Unbroken." He broke the seal, looking up periodically towards Cersei." Lord Eddard Stark is herein named Protector of the Realm, to rule as Regent until the heir come of age".

_It was clear that Joffrey was confused, but Arryn only sighed, a tiny smirk on his face as if he had foreseen this. That did not bode well for Ned, and he tightened his grip. _

Cersei reached forth. "May I see that letter, Ser Barristan?" _Ser Barristan did as the Queen commanded, handing her the letter. "_Protector of the Realm. Is this meant to be your shield, Lord Stark? A piece of paper?" Then she tore the paper into pieces, a victorious look on her face.

Barristan looked on with horror. "Those were the King's words."

The Queen sneered, looking at Barristan. " We have a _new_ king now. Lord Eddard, when we last spoke you offered me some counsel. Allow me to return the courtesy: bend the knee, My Lord. Bend the knee and swear loyalty to my son and we shall allow you to live out your days in the gray waste you call home."

"Your son has no claim to the throne." The damning words were uttered, and Ned turned to Arryn seeing him cringe. '_So he knows, not too surprising... but does he care? Does he have the honor to see his position for what it is?' Ned doubted it. _

_Cersei scoffed, looking disgusted._

Joffrey just screamed. " Liar!"

"You condemn yourself with your own mouth, Lord Stark." Cersei turned to Ser Barristan. " Ser Barristan, seize this traitor."

_With confusion, the Kingsgaurd did as they were told and began their advance. Ned was prepared for this, drawing his own sword along side his guard and the Gold Cloaks he had managed to get control of. _

"Ser Barristan is a good man, a loyal man. Do him no harm."

Cersei almost laughed as she spoke. "You think he stands alone?"

_The Hound and Arryn drew their blades, moving forward with expert movements. _

The screams of the false king echoed in the long hall. " Kill him! Kill all of them, I command it!" The other Lannister guards all took out their blades.

Ned turned to Janos Slynt. Commander! Take the Queen and her children into custody. Escort them back to the royal apartments and keep them there, under guard.

Janos called out. "Men of the Watch"

_The Gold Cloaks all draw their swords and point their spears up at Cersei and Joffrey. Barristan looked forlorn, but THE HOUND still looks ready to fight.]_

Ned spoke to his men. " I want no bloodshed." The he turned to Cersei. " Tell your men to lay down their swords. No one needs to die."

Janos' voice ripped out. "Now!"

_Before Ned could react, The Gold Cloaks suddenly start attacking and killing Ned's guards. Ned, shocked, realized he's been betrayed. Turning to defend his men, he quickly found his blade on the floor and the blade of Arryn Lannister stark against his throat. _

"You expose yourself with your treachery, Lord Stark. You will suffer for that. "

A droplet of blood trickled down the blade, and Eddard Stark was defeated.

**Arryn**

'_Do not worry, Lord Stark.' Your daughters will survive this, that I swear... _

The droplet of blood reached his hands, and once again he was reminded of just how horrible this situation had become and he finally understood a lesson.

He would never always be able to stop his mother or brother's evil, but he could profit off of it... as long as he was not like Lord Stark, naïve enough to trust Littlefinger and those like him, he would succeed...

Or die...

He just had to play the role sometimes and roll with the waves of their stupidity… especially stupidity as planned and desired as this...

For in this Game of Thrones, there was no middle ground.

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**Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews. **

**This was so much fun, I missed this. **

**Love, your Ninja Overlord, **

**Mika. **


	14. Meetings and More, Planning the Future

**Good news, I may be getting a new job with far better hours. Four Ten hour shifts so i have more days to write. I love this story and only want to write it on my days off so it had fully attention. That is why there had been a delay. if i get this job you can expect more updates. **

**The last chapter was short because it didn't need to be long. It ended an arc and it felt at the right length but don't worry that won't be a trend. **

**I find this story the easiest to freehand, not sure why but it is the best story for that. I love it for that. **

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"Your a fool of a man, Ned Stark." The first words that came from Arryn's mouth barely were able to express his deep annoyance with the man he saw chained to the walls of the black cells. "A honorable fool, what were you thinking rushing like that? Do you really know so little about how the real world works that you thought you could trust Littlefinger or the Gold Cloaks? Slynt is a corrupt fool as are many of the morons in the capital." Kneeling, he ignored the contemptuous look on the man's face. "Thankfully you were uninjured, I cannot imagine how an infection would harm you right now. I brought you some supplies, food and water. If you are to stand trial then you need to be well feed."

Ned grunted at the second born prince. "Why do you act the part of a friend when you were the one to capture me?"

"You misunderstand, though I loathe you for your pointless honor and deep ignorance, I cannot fault you for doing what you feel is right. You are a naïve man, but one that means well. You tried to help the kingdom in your own way, even if it damns me and mine, I cannot fault you for it. This is a motion of my respect for that act, foolish though it was." Arryn didn't smile, this wasn't something that brought him any joy. " Sansa came to court today, begging for your release and pardon. I was barely able to watch it... it hurt to see her like that, to see any child beg for the survival of their parent. I was able to comfort her, to ease her fears as best I could. My mother and Joff want to rub her nose in their victory but I have held them back. Your daughter, regardless of your path, will be fine. I will not allow her abuse or misery while she under our care. If nothing else believe that."

There was a moment of silence, then Ned nodded. " I believe you. You have always been kind to my children, regardless of your dislike of me. Why though, do you fight for your brother if you know he is not the true king. I saw your face, you could not hide that from me."

"Many kings and queens have taken the throne without proper rights, Robert is one such king. If Joff was dethroned, then my siblings and I are all in danger. We would be executed or banished for a crime we have had no part in. Where does your honor allow the safety of three innocent children, myself included? It doesn't Lord Stark, it is too tied to semantics that hold little power. Stannis would have made a poor king, too consumed with his own pride to help his people even now. Renly is lazy, ignorant and poor at his job too consumed with spending money on parties and sleeping around like Robert. Neither would have helped the realm."

"And Joffery will? Cersei will?"

"No, but I can. I can guide them, they fear and respect me. My grandfather listens to my thoughts and orders them to obey. Together we can guide the realm to a more right place. Already I have gained the title of Master of Laws from Renly since he left, and with that I have power of a countless many including prisoners like you. My mother knows I am here, so do not think you can break up any loyalty there." Arryn's eyes were cold as he said this, holding the man with a glance. "I am still Advisor as well, a dual position just as Grand Maesters can also be Hands of the King. I will hold this until I can guide another to act as Advisor."

"You continue to accumulate power, are you sure you do not wish to be king?" Ned's sneer was impressive despite the clear case of mild dehydration.

"I wish to help the realm survive my family, that is all. I wish to be remembered. To make the realm a place my sister and brother can call home and be proud of... that is all Lord Stark... now, there is a matter we must discuss. Many in fact but I only have time for a few... the first is the most simple. We have lost Arya, that fool Slynt chased her away and her dancing teacher defended her until she could leave safely. She is missing, the Gold Cloaks are searching for her but she is a capable student apparently as none of found her. Should we do so, know that she may be used as her sister, to gain control of the North. Be it through marriage or other means, but I will ensure that she survives and thrives in the capital."

Ned, who had taken a sharp in take at the notion of Arya missing, let out a long exhale that seemed almost painful. "Thank you... for that..."

"I mean it, Ned. I will ensure their safety. I may lack my mother's command of the people but I do have some loyal to me. The cells are in a rare state of empty, so outside your guards and a few others, they are searching for her. If I am her finder, then I will put her in a safe place to be monitored and respected. Not because she is your daughter but because no one deserves to suffer my mother's wrath. Or Joff's for that matter."

Ned nodded here, and it seemed that he was on the verge of smiling despite the horrors of his situation. " What then, do you want to speak about otherwise?"

"Are you aware that your son, Robb, is marching South with an army of his own?"

"No... but he is a just a boy!"

"A boy loyal and loving, one taught honor at your side. One that would do as you would. Boys have conquered before and he is no different. " A smile made it's way to Arryn's face as he considered the handsome boy, how he had yearned to bed him and how he might have to bury him to survive. It was a strange turn of events. "I wish to make peace with him, to stop a war that would carve a swath through the realm... I need your help to do that. Confess your treason and be sent to the wall with your sweet bastard. Go and live, and know that in doing so all will be safe. Your blood, your daughters, your son. Do so and know that we all will live through the coming winter without having a war destroy out rations, population and survial."

"I cannot tell if you are trying to manipulate me or not, you spoke so easily about killing Danerys Targaryen and yet here you are trying to stop a war... which is it, which lives are vunerable to you?"

"My family, myself and the realm... but in truth I would sacrifice my family and myself for the realm but choosing my uncles would help no one so I choose my brother in the hopes that I can mitigate the damage he and his would cause. So, I ask you again, would you serve the realm and your blood and confess? Will you choose love and the survival of the realm over your arrogance and honor? This is your only chance to do right by the world..."

The previous Hand said nothing for a long moment. "Give me time to consider it..."

"Time is a resource you barely have, but one you do have... enjoy your meal for it may be your last in any comfort...goodbye, Lord Stark. I do not pray but I do hope you make the right choice when it comes to it." With that, Arryn stood and moved away from the previous Hand of the King and made his way out of the cell, seeing the two gaurds now under his sway. "Allow no one to pass, not even my mother. If she asks why, tell her to speak to me first. I cannot stop Joff from passing but keep your eyes on him."

"Yessir!" They both said, nodding to him with a low bow.

Satisifed, he marched away, through the darkness of the underground cells and up to the light of the day. He barely made it fifty paces before he saw Lancel marching towards him, pale faced and shaking.

"My Lord, your brother the King wishes to speak to you in his chambers. Then I am to obey you, for I am your service fully now." Lancel bowed low. " I swore to serve your father and now I am to serve you. Now and forever, my Lord. My sword and sheild are yours to command."

A sense of satisfaction overcame Arryn at the sight of one of his lesser plans, namely getting Lancel's loyalty, coming to fruition. He hadn't put too much effort into it so it was satisfying to see it in action. " Go to the Stables and watch my dear brother Tommen. As of this point you are to guard him at all times if I do not order you otherwise. Youa re to obey the orders of Dagmir as well, for he is my sworn sword and speaks with my authority when it comes to my and my siblings defense. Am I clear?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Good... now go. I will speak to Joffrey." Lancel bowed once more and hurried off, carrying his hand over his sword as he obediently carried out his orders. " That was satisfying... anyway, time to deal with my brother."

""'

Knocking on Joffrey's door, Arryn felt a sense of discomfort that he couldn't quite place. He had seen how the power of the Crown had already swayed his brother's greedy heart, he wasn't familiar with how to control a dog with a crown. He had to be more careful now then ever before.

"Cone in." Joffrey's voice echoed through the door, a false impression of regality.

Obeying, Arryn walked through and offered a slight bow to his brother. "My King, I came as quickly as I was able."

Joffrey nodded, standing in front of a mirror as he admired his new clothes. They were red and gold, Lannister colors of course, that buttoned up to his throat. A lion existed on each side, chasing a crowned stag. Arryn had personally designed it, a gift to gain some appreciation from his brother, to soften him up if only slightly. "How did you meeting with the traitor go? Has he confessed his treason?"

"He might, I gave him reason enough to move past his pride but it is up to him. If he does, the wisest move would be to spare him and make him take the Black. This way we do not lose the North. As it is it might be enough to stop a war before it strips of resources."

" That would be bad...right?" For the first time, Arryn actually heard uncertainty in Joff's voice. His eyes were shaken and his skin paler then normal. "I have a confession, I spoke to our sister about you. I saw how easily father seemed to respect you, how your suggestions always seemed to get him to like me. I resented you for that for some time, but when I saw your success on the council and how father actually took you on a hunt... I realized you could help me. She helped me to woo Sansa, more successfully then what mother's suggestions would have allowed. I wanted to ignore her but I saw you in her eyes... was she always so smart?"

"Smarter then I am by far, and smarter then even our grandfather I would bet. She needs guidance and I will give her that. I know you resent women for what you perceive as weakness, but in this I feel you are wrong. We need all of our allies dear brother, she can be a devastating enemy or a great ally. Let us be wise in making her what we need her to be."

Joff nodded. " I admit I was disgusted by her orders at first but you are right, have I been so blind to this? To the power some women can posses?"

"Yes, and many other things but I blame mother. She never allowed you to grow. I am here to help you, Joff, now and forever."

"I believe that... " Joff turned around. " Thank you for crafting this, it suits me... I heard from mother that you are training our siblings in martial arts and giving them ways to grow... I know it was supposed to be secret but she has never hid anything from me. I want you to help me as well, to make me better as you always have."

Almost unable to believe his brother's words, Arryn slowly approached Joff and placed his hands on his brother's shoulders. "That you are willing to allow this is proof that you will be better then you realize... but we shall start now. I want you to learn history and maths. I do not trust that idiot Baelish, he has doomed us to a massive debt to many others including the Iron Bank. I do not think you need to be told how dangerous that is, I know you enjoyed the stories about them."

Joff's face went paler. " How... how did father allow that?" His snarl was almost intimidating.

"Father rarely cared Joff he was a great warrior but poor king. Even he owned up to that...

Joff shook. "I... how can we deal with that? I have no ideas other then raising taxes."

"That would only cause conflict within the people... we can raise it with special events, and using Baelish. He caused the debt to grow so he should play a part to undo it."

His brother let out a cruel bout of laughter. "That will be satisfying... but I have one question, the real reason you are here... why did Ned Stark condemn me as not being the true heir? Mother is lying to me, I can tell... I have heard some rumors, about... her and Uncle Jaime... about them..."

Arryn sighed, sitting down next to his brother, gesturing for his brother to do the same. "It is true... mother and Jaime slept together and we are all the product of that. We must not allow to be public knowledge of course, you know that... Ned discovered it as did the Previous hand. We must ensure that it does now happen again, that no one else discovers the truth. Less you lose claim to the throne."

"That's... I …" Joffrey shivered. "Should I punish mother for this?"

"As much as I would enjoy that, no... she holds too much power. We need to mitigate that. I would not put it past her to get rid of us to get her own power. No... we must cut her off slowly. I am on the council with two positions... to which I must thank you, I never would have even asked to get the Master of Laws Position on my own. I have control over Tommen and Marcella, which will stem mother's influence over the future. I have grandfather's respect so that should stem mother's disobedience... for the time we can at least negate her before she causes too much damage."

"That would be good... thank you, I know you were not fond of me before this. I know you still aren't." Joff's eyes were filled with a rare understanding, one that his brother had never had before. "I am trying to be better, I do not want to be killed like Father."

"I won't let you be. We will make you loved and respected, not just due to title but deed. It takes a council to rule, so even if mother is acting in your stead you should joint he council meetings. Silently at first, just to observe but eventually you should speak for and against certain actions."

"That sounds boring, but I will do what I need to do."

"Good... now, if there is little else, I must depart. I have to give our sister her lessons. I have decided to spend more time learning the art the sword. It has been too long since I have trained. I am rusty and it showed when we took Ned Stark and his people."

Joff actually laughed, laughed in a warm and not cruel way. "I noticed you almost were as poor a swordsmen as I am."

"No one else is that poor Joff."

And then he left, his brother's laughter lingering the air as he hurried away. The sound was stunning as it was alarming. Was his brother manipulating him? Was it genuine? Was there a secondary motive behind it? The weight of having to guess everyone's secondary or tertiary motives was heavy on Arryn's soul.

""""

"And that is what I told him."

Arryn nodded, looking at his little sister who had turned pale the moment he mentioned that he knew she spoke to Joffrey on her own, commanding her brother to listen to her wisdom. " I am not happy you did this on your own, he is violent and cruel but clearly it was successful enough that he is questioning his dislike of women. That says a great deal... but be more careful sister. I cannot always protect you."

"I know..."

"Good... now we should move onto what you discovered in my absence. You seemed excited before seeing me in blood."

Her smile returned and with it a radiant smugness. "Flowers!" She paused, waiting to be interrupted he assumed, before moving on. " I want to make new gardens across the City, Glass and otherwise like in the north so we can grow plants during the winter and store more. If this war is to come, then we can increase our productivity and rations even if slightly. It will be expensive but I think we can manage it. We can have bastards we trust and those in the city run it, so they feel apart of the public works, gaining more loyalty."

It was impossible not to pull his sister into a warm hug. " You prodigy, you brilliant girl you... that is wonderful idea and one I fully endorse. I can offer prisoners a chance to gain their freedom with community service to clean up the areas both in and around your gardens. Any with construction experience can help with their creation. Brilliant my dear. Hmm, that will go well with my other idea."

"What idea?" She looked excited to hear it, and looked up with bright shining eyes.

"I want to have some maesters in the area train women in child birthing techniques and other healing methods so that we are not undone by a lack of healers and medics when the war and winter come. A glance at history has told the cost of a lack of healers. With you new supply of healing plants and a paid training we could help our common people and set up a sense of loyalty... subverting the damage Ned Stark has caused."

"Wonderful!" She said, looking excited. "Dagmir, you had some ideas too, right?"

Both turned to the man, the eldest among them, who seemed contemplative. "Yes, my lady... I wish to train your bastard siblings, and other low born, to make a better guard for you. We know they are likely to be killed by Joffrey or your mother so you have no competition for the throne, but doing so would destroy the people's trust in the Crown. This would help I imagine."

"And create a better defense in case of more treason.. and we can ship some of them into the Gold Cloaks... and we can have some of them act as Guards for the Black Cells as well, that way no one will accuse me of gaining an army of my own. Really wonderful... they will hold my sigil though, as you do my friend."

He imagined it, people carrying his personal sigil. A Grey background with hands holding up a purple heart covered in vines. He was proud of it, Dagmir already held it on his armor, a sign of his loyalty. He would present it publicly on his own clothes soon as they were crafted, so people would associated him separate from the Crown on some level. He wanted to be seen as his own force for good so when everything went to hell he was less likely to fall with the idiots around him.

Dagmir offered a smile. " Of course, they would be your personal guard much as the King has the Kingsguard."

"Oh what the call them... and the more of them in and around the Goldcloaks and what not, the more sway I have all around... perfect. Now... dear sister, it is time for you to start your lessons. Tell me, how far did you read ahead in your books? Then you can tell me about Tommen. "

Her eyes all but sparkled as she started to tell him about her adventures. "I made it to the part about the Fall of old Valayria! I never realized how dangerous volcanoes were, it seems sort of foolish for them to build their cities around them and I -"

'"'

With some disgust, Cersei listened to her spy and his tales. It annoyed her to hear that her sons were not only getting along, and thus losing the rift she planned to take advantage of to get rid of Arryn's power, but that Joffrey had actually sought out his brother's advice. It ruined a great many of her plans...

"Keep an eye on my sons and report any meetings they have back to me."

"I will my lady. " Her spy, one of Joffrey's guards and a bastard who's father was in service to her, nodded and bowed low to her.

"You are dismissed." As the spy left, she stood and turned to face the mirror, seeing her sons in her image. It pained her to go against them, more then anything, but she knew that if she wanted to wield any power, then she had to do it.

Arryn did not trust her, people flocked to him and he now held two seats on the Small Council. His grandfather liked him and offered him greater power stiill, and he had sway over her younger two children. Joffrey was the king, defiant and powerful and willful. He was only so controllable now and she knew of his thoughts towards women. With them working together, her power would shrink to nothing. She had to be swift if she wanted to remain where she could control the world.

Where to start though? She had no idea, this was not a path she ever anticipated...

What would she do next?

What could she do?

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**Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews. **

**This was fun, powerful and exciting to write. **

**Love, your Ninja Overlord, **

**Mika. **


	15. Meetings and the Return of a Daughter

**No one bothers to help Joffrey, I wonder how great he could have been with a decent influence... even Tyrion was just abusive, though reasonably. **

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Cersei felt uncomfortable as she walked into the Small Council, the eyes of the various Lords and Masters looking at her expectantly weighed heavily on her. That Joffrey of all people was actually sitting at the head of the Table, looking at her with almost bored eyes did little to end her discomfort. However it was her second eldest, her beloved Arryn's eyes that kept her from reaching any level of calm. There was a persuasive power in his gaze, a warning to be on her best behavior that threw her deeply. She knew he was not there to listen to any garbage, or reaching for power. He held great power now, both as the Master of Laws and the Advisor to the Crown, even as the Queen Regent she had little choice but to at least hear him out.

She didn't like that much.

"Why were called here, I do not remember a Council meeting being set for today?" She reached her seat, opposite her son, where she sat taller and stronger then the rest. The feeling of power that filled her at the sight of the others shifted, and her hesitation faded away.

Naturally, it was Arryn who spoke up. "I called the meeting, for a few reasons. Mainly, what to do with Ned Stark with and without the possibilities of execution. I for one would like to avoid a war and as we all know Robb Stark is ready and willing to start one. There have already been several battles. With winter coming we cannot tolerate this, we must be working to prepare the realm and for that we need collective action. A large part of that will involve the fate of Ned Stark. I for one motion to have him sent to the Wall with his bastard, after proclaiming his treason. That will keep his family satiated while also properly acquiring adequate justice for Our King."

Cersei nodded. " I agree, that is my wish as well. I have no desire to have a war started, or brought to our doorsteps. I have seen war, it is an ugly thing. I'd rather not endure it again."

On the far left of the table, opposite the Grand Maester, Varys spoke up. "I second that motion, and suggest that once we find Arya Stark we use her and her sister Sansa as tools to prevent the betrayal of the North. They may still move against us so having a few bargaining chips may be what we need to stem the tides of war."

"Any news on that front?" Joffrey asked, startling Cersei entirely. "On the location of the Youngest Stark Daughter?"

Varys shook his head. " She's a clever girl, trained by a First Sword of Bravos, she will not be easy to find. Speed and careful observation is their bread and butter, it is what fuels them. She will not be an easy capture, especially as she was last seen in trousers and a riding top. She is not going to be identified through clothing or appearance."

"She was loyal to her father, I will have some men searching for her during the trial and public denouncing of Ned Stark." Arryn's voice was cold, rigid and powerful. "They know what she looks like and they will be ready to find her when the time comes. I cannot imagine she would avoid his trial, she is clever but still naïve." The pain in her son's tone was clear to Cersei, but only to her. She knew how much he cared for the Stark children, to use them like this was a painful action for him. She could see it etched onto his face. "As it is several of my men are looking for her in the various districts, it is my hope to find her before unsavory characters do in an attempt to take advantage of her."

Pride washed through Cersei, as did a familiar sense of wariness. She too feared such actions against Arya, no one deserved to suffer like that. "I hope you find her. Now, is there anything else that needs discussing?"

"Three things. First, I will be taking my father's bastards and training them to become a group of protective soldiers, second is that I wish to push forward funding to create glass gardens all over the Castle Town to prepare for winter and Third I wish to create a newly trained group of medically inclined women to help stem the damage if this war is in fact becoming a reality." Everyone, Cersei included, gasped at Arryn's declaration, but the boy remained as calm as he usually did. "I know you are wondering why, the answer is simple. The Kings Gaurd is a joke, a mummers act of the past. We need a better guard for those in power. They will appreciate the power, prestige and position that this will give them, making them the perfect guards. As for the Gardens, the answer is simple as well. We will need more everything to survive and thrive in the winter. We can grow fruits, vegetables, healing herbs and so on during the winter through the glass houses as they do in the north. This will help mitigate the damage the winter will cause. It was actually my sister's idea.

The last part is simple, I wish to have local maesters train various women in the basics of healing so that when and if battles come, we can stem the damage and mitigate the deaths and other life long injuries. This will keep our people ready for the war and help our kingdom flourish. That is all I wish to offer for the time being."

Silence, heavy and unbearably hot filled the room, leaving Cersei almost unable to breathe.

Grand Maester Pycelle coughed lightly before he was the first to break the silence. "That is a great deal of change, my Lord. You will be stepping on many toes, that of the Maester for one. Are you willing to do this knowing that you will be possibly angering such individuals?"

"I have sent a letter to you fellow Maesters, to recruit many in the great education reforms I am planning. I do not plan on replacing your order, merely creating a way to lessen the strain and resentment within and towards your people for and from those who cannot afford your aid. As for the Gardens, we will employee many commoners to watch over and grow our gardens creating jobs and a sense of unity. We can sell many of these products to other houses, with a tax, to help recover the funds Lord Baelish allowed us to lose."

That almost made Cersei laugh, the direction of her son's ease of maneuvering the others... it was masterful. However one thing still burned in her chest. " The bastards, why them Many others would kill for such a position... any one would give their children for such prestige and power and merely having access to reliable food."

Arryn's eyes were warmer then Cersei had ever seen them. " They are family and that means it is my duty to help them. They did not choose my father's indiscretions. They should not bear his shame. I have long felt that Dorne was the most sophisticated in regards to how they deal with bastards and it was them, and their training of their women, that has inspired me to do this. I will make my brothers and sisters into a fighting force to rival any others and, if time and Joffery permits, I will have a new House much like Our House Baratheon, created from the bastard lineage. Madness has been bred out of our line, so I am not worried for a repeat of House Blackfyre."

"LORD ARRYN!" The words made them all jump, each one followed by a knock. Her beautiful son stood immediately and marched towards the door, opening it just enough to have words whispered in his ears by an outside force. A wicked smile crossed his face.

"Thank you, Baleton. Your actions will have positive consequences, do not doubt that." Her son turned to them all. "Arya Stark has been found, she is in her sister's chamber being tended to by her Septa. If you will all excuse me, My King you should come with me, as should you mother."

The others obeyed his words without question, even the Royal family.

"""

"We should gut the lot of them!"

Septa Mordane hand whipped out like a snake, cracking Arya across her face with great speed. Her hands should as she grabbed her ward and yanked her close, looking very close to her tiny, stunned face. "Do not insult our captors you stupid girl. It is only through the grace of Lord Arryn that any of us, even I, am alive. He had his guards personally gather us to ensure that no harm came to us. He could have you, all of us, killed in moments. You will mind your manners."

The girl recoiled at her tone, stunned that she had been struck by the previously quiet Septa. "Why did you..."

"I do not want you to die child, if hitting you is what I need to do to keep you alive I will gladly greet the gods with the actions on my conscious."

"What on your conscious?" Raspy and weaker then she had ever heard, the room of frightened women turned to Arryn Lannister, looking at them with genuine warmth and worry. "Who struck you Arya? Tell me and I will have their heads."

Septa Mordane, to Arya's shock, stepped in front of her. "I did. A lesson needed to be learned, and I taught it. She is a good girl but too willful. I did not want her angering you, Lord Arryn."

The boy Lord looked at her Septa for a long hard moment before sighing. "I am glad it was just you then, otherwise I would have an extra head to put on a spike. I fear it wouldn't be alone. I heard they killed your dancing teacher Arya, for that I am sorry. My guards only managed to protect your sister and Septa... I mourn his loss as if he were my own." he bowed low for a moment, with Arya's heart aching at the mention of Syrio.

"You liar! Your family attacked our guards, locked us in here, captured my father!"

"And kept you alive." Arya heard the gasps of her sister and Septa, but Arryn like her ignored them both and kneeled before her. " I am doing my best to keep you alive, all of you. It has not been easy. War and conflict calls for the the bloodlust within even the purest of men. "I do not ask that you like or even understand what is going on, it is complex and terrible but it is your reality. I am doing my best to keep your family alive and unharmed. I am in charge of the prison were your father is being held, I personally delivered his food and am making sure he is not developing wounds or sickness that might kill him before his trial. I have spoken to the king, my brother, to make sure your father is given a proper trial. I am making sure all is happening as it should. Do not think differently, for I alone will keep you alive. However you too must do you part, in part by being respectful to the king and my mother less you burn away the bridges I have formed through careful planning and my own grace. Are we clear? They are more bloodthirsty then I am... they will have your heads, all of yours, for petty offenses... I beg of you, be good."

Arya wanted to growl, to spit and scream and attack but the boy's earnest eyes calmed her hands and eased her spirit. She felt the blood of the wolf waver in her, and she knew that he meant his words. More then anything it was the sheer exhaustion she saw etched into his every feature, from his tired eyes to the pale tone of his golden skin. He seemed worn by the world as her father often had been in her youth. Why she had no idea but for some reason now she got it, now she understood what could stretch someone so thin...

In the smallest voice she could manage, she managed to squeeze out. "Alright...Thank you, Arryn."

He smiled at her then pulled her into a warm hug she actually appreciated. "Never have to thank me, girly. Just live and prosper... now my mother and the King are waiting outside, they will be in momentarily. Behave yourselves, all of you."

The girls nodded, with Arya sharing a look at her sister and doing her best to mimic her body. Tall stance, straight back, wavering watery eyes... weak and worthless in Arya's eyes, but apparently, what she needed to be.

Arryn turned and nodded to a handsome red haired guard, who opened the door, allowing the King and his Mother to walk into the room. They looked smug in their power, arrogant and bloated like a pair of ugly snakes.

"Mother, my King, I present Arya Stark, just as I promised. Only she is a touch dirtier then we would like, that is easily resolved." Arryn's weak rasp seemed to fade as confidence masked the exhaustion she still saw hiding. It was clear to her then that Arryn was not on his family's side, but his own and he was hiding his true self even from them. What that meant for her was... unclear, she could only hope it was good. "She was found near the Street of Sisters, having not eaten in some time. If it is alright with you both, I would keep this short so we can have her cleaned and fed before too long."

His tone was firm, firm enough that even the bratty king seemed to be swayed by his words. "Yes, that would be best wouldn't it."

"I believe so, your Grace."

The Queen Mother kneeled towards Arya and put a hand on her dirty face. "I am just glad you are safe, little dove. We were quiet worried about you."

Arya had many things to say but all she could do was nod her head as if she cared about the queen's words. All she could think about was stabbing her like she had the miserly stable boy... '_Wait, where's my blade?' _She would ask Arryn before too long... she hoped he would give it back to her, it was all she cared about of her possessions.

"You did well, my son, as always. I expect nothing less of you."

Arryn nodded, a smile on his face, but Arya could see the contempt in his stance. It wasn't that different from her own contempt towards the queen, so she thought. "I aim to please. Now, if that is all, I have established well trained guards for the girls and have some lessons planned for them with their Septa so long as they are here. Their education should not be wasted just because of this entire situation."

"I agree." Joffrey said, nodding to his brother. "You have done so well with Mycella and Tommen's education, I can see you making these girls exceptional before they leave our care."

"That is my goal, brother."

"""

As they left the girls, a wave of weakness over took Arryn, He managed to excuse himself from his family long enough to make it to his own room. It was only the that he feel to his knees, coughing harshly into his elbow to mask the sound. Shaking, he recoiled enough to see blood. Not a lot but enough... and it both infuriated him and worried him.

_'Can I subsist on so much conflict? Can I live while stretched so thin, like a brow beaten bookkeeper... damn it all... No, I simply need to mitigate the stress I am under. I need to keep my eyes on so many things... it will take time but I think I can do it.'_

With more confidence then he really had, Arryn stood from his floor, ignoring the burning ache in his joints, and made it to the window before lighting a sample of the herbs he had bought for his illness. A few puffs later and it's soothing presence washed through him. Easing his pain and soothing his mind of the stresses of the day. It all melted away...

"My Lord." The sultry sound of Dagmir drew a shudder down his spine, making Arryn turn to see the incredible body of the ginger man mostly shed of armor and clothes. "You seem unwell. Perhaps a treatment of some kind will ease your mind."

An easy smile washed over Arryn's face as he approached his part time lover. "Perhaps your right. It really has been so long, I seem to be suffering greatly."

"Of course you have."

Their laughter filled the room ever so softly.

"""

Ease washed over Myrcella at the news of Arya's capture. She had worried greatly for the other girl, that she was unharmed and well seemed to be a gift only the gods could have delivered... not that she had faith in such fanciful deities, but that was enough for her. She had plans for the two girls, many plans that could deeply help them in the day and months to come. She only hoped her beloved Arryn would allow her to fulfill those plans...

It would take a women's touch to ensure the girl's heart survived and not just their bodies...

And for that reason Myrcella dedicated an hour of her time to reading on Prisoners of War, hoping to learn from the past as so few others were willing to do.

* * *

**Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews. **

**This was so much fun to write, I miss this story. **

**Love, your Ninja Overlord, **

**Mika. **


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